THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Mr.  Lloyd  ^.  :..ith 
Racine,  Wisconsin 


c 


THE  N/ERODAL 


A  Norwegian 
Ramble 

Among  the  Fjords,  Fjelds,  Mountains 
and  Glaciers 


By 

One  of  the  Ramblers 

(J.  Bishop  Putnam) 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Gbe  fmicfterbocfcer  press 
1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1904 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Published,  April,  1904 
Reprinted,  January,  1906 


Itnicfeerbocbcr  press,  Hew  ffotl 


TO 

MY  OLD  FRIEND 

C.  J.   O. 

IN  MEMORY  OF  MANY  HAPPY 
CANADIAN  DAYS 


2216538 


PREFATORY 

THE  writer  does  not,  for  a  moment,  flatter 
himself  that  there  is  "  a  long  felt  want " 
for  this  little  book,  neither  is  he  entirely  oblivi- 
ous to  the  existence  of  many  excellent  and 
most  readable  volumes  on  Scandinavia. 

If,  perchance,  there  may  be  any  place  for  this 
little  sketch,  it  will  not  be  in  competition  with 
other  works  on  Norway,  for  there  are  many 
such  possessing  a  scope  and  a  completeness 
for  which  these  few  pages  can  lay  no  possible 
claim. 

The  purpose  of  this  monograph  —  if,  per- 
chance, it  have  any  definite  purpose  —  is  in 
its  endeavor  to  suggest  to  some  of  our  coun- 
trymen who  appreciate  natural  scenery,  and 
whose  vacations  are  primarily  designed  for 
rest,  the  many  attractions  offered  by  Norway. 

The  route  described  is  but  a  personal  expe- 
rience, and  it  covers  but  a  very  small  section 

M 


Prefatory 

of  this  wonderfully  picturesque  land.  There 
are  innumerable  other  routes  offering  equal, 
perhaps  superior,  advantages  to  the  traveller. 

The  majority  of  Americans  who  visit  Scan- 
dinavia have  as  their  aim  a  view  of  the 
phenomenon  of  the  Midnight  Sun  and  this 
necessitates  a  long  sea  journey,  which,  un- 
fortunately, does  not  always  end  successfully. 
Such  travellers  are  apt  to  fail  to  see  the  strik- 
ing beauties  of  ijord,  fjeld,  and  mountain  of 
southwestern  Norway. 

To  him  who  possesses  a  true  enthusiasm  for 
nature  in  its  grandeur,  to  the  weary  business 
man  seeking  for  mental  rest  and  recreation 
amid  new  surroundings,  the  journey  across 
the  country  of  the  Vikings  offers  extraordinary 
attractions. 

Such  a  traveller  may  here  find  the  grandest 
of  snow-covered  mountains  from  which  tum- 
ble innumerable  waterfalls  of  striking  beauty, 
the  most  charming  stretches  of  ijords  or  inland 
seas,  the  wildest  and  most  desolate  of  fjelds,  a 
wealth  of  color  which  in  its  intense  brilliancy 


Prefatory 

can  scarcely  be  matched  in  any  other  part  of 
the  world,  a  kindly-hearted,  hospitable,  and 
supremely  honest  people,  and  —  the  worst 
cigars  in  the  world  1 


[Ytt] 


List  of  Illustrations 

PAGR 

THE  N/ERODAL        .        .       Frontispiece 

A  VALLEY  ROAD 36 

A  STOLKJ/ERE         .....  40 

AN  ATTRACTIVE  POOL     ....  46 

THE  ROMSDAL  VALLEY    ....  54 

AANDALSNyfcS 62 

THE  VALLEY  OF  DESOLATION  .  .  .102 
A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  KJENDALSBR/E  .  .no 

ODDE 188 

LOOKING  TOWARDS  THE  GEIRANGER  FJORD,  192 
APPROACHING  THE  LOTEFOS  .  .  .  198 
THE  CHURCH  OF  BORGUND  .  .  .  204 
THE  "  GAARD  "  AT  STALHEIM  .  .  .  210 
THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  SPIRILLEN  .  .216 

FAGERN/ES 220 

ON  THE  ROAD  TO  LOKEN  228 


[xi] 


Contents 


THE  START i 

CHRISTIANFA 16 

LESJEVy€RK  AND  ORMEIM  ....  34 

AANDALSN/ES  AND  THE  ROMSDAL  FJORD     .  59 

MOLDE  TO  MEROK 76 

THE  GEIRANGER  FJORD  ....  88 
MEROK  AND  THE  GEIRANGER  ROAD  .  .100 
LOEN  AND  THE  NORD  FjORD  .  .  .148 

DOWN  THE  COAST 164 

BERGEN  AND  THE  HARDANGER  FJORD         .  173 

ODDE 187 

ODDE  TO  HIDE 198 

Voss  TO  STALHEIM 206 

TO  GUDVANGEN 214 

LAUREDAL  AND  MARISTUEN  221 


A    Norwegian    Ramble 


THE  START 

WHEN  the  learned  LL.D.  was  approached 
by  the  Rambler,  who  was  spoiling  for 
green  fields  and  pastures  new,  with  the  query 
"Why  not  tackle  Norway?"  the  latter  was 
both  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  ready  ac- 
ceptance of  the  challenge,  and  to  this  terra 
incognita  to  both  it  was  decided  to  head  for  a 
brief  vacation  trip. 

There  are  many  volumes  devoted  to  travels 
in  Scandinavia,  but,  while  many  Americans 
have  visited  the  country,  the  interest  of  our 
countrymen  has  principally  centred  in  the 
North  Cape  and  the  Midnight  Sun,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  a  journey  through  the  inland 
fjord  and  fjelds  has  been,  apparently,  greatly 
neglected  by  most  of  our  travellers  to  Europe. 
[I] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


Those  of  our  countrymen  who  go  abroad 
with  a  desire  for  mountains  and  glaciers,  as  a 
rule,  turn  their  steps  towards  Switzerland, 
and  this  very  largely  because  Switzerland  is 
easy  to  reach,  because  it  offers  commodious 
and  fashionable  hotels  for  the  comfort  of  visi- 
tors, and  because  Americans  in  going  there 
may  always  depend  upon  meeting  with  a  very 
large  contingent  of  their  own  countrymen. 
To  those  looking  for  fashion,  crowds,  and 
"all  the  delicacies  of  the  season,"  the  region 
of  the  Alps  will  always  doubtless  offer  attrac- 
tions not  to  be  found  in  Norway,  but  there  is  a 
growing  number  of  travellers  who  go  abroad 
for  rest  and,  at  least  for  a  time,  to  free  them- 
selves from  the  demands  of  "the  strenuous 
life,"  and  to  such  of  these  who  appreciate 
grand  and  wonderfully  varied  scenery,  who 
perhaps  may  enjoy  comfort  but  who,  for  a 
time  at  least,  can  dispense  with  some  of  the 
luxuries  of  life,  for  whom  crowds  have  no  at- 
traction, but  who  welcome  the  exhilarations 
of  a  superb  climate, — to  these  we  would  like  to 

[2] 


The  Start 

offer  the  many  delights  which  Norway  holds 
forth.  Especially  is  this  the  case  if  the  visit  be 
made  in  August  and  September,  when  the 
country  is  at  its  best,  when  the  air  and  the 
sunshine  are  bracing  in  the  extreme,  and,  last 
but  perhaps  not  least,  when  the  great  bulk  of 
English  and  German  tourists  are  conspicuous 
by  their  absence. 

There  are  many  ways  of  reaching  Norway 
from  America,  all  doubtless  presenting  some 
advantages,  but  the  most  direct  and,  in  many 
ways,  the  pleasantest  route  is  probably  that 
by  the  Scandinavian  Line  from  New  York  to 
Christiansand  or  Copenhagen.  The  steam- 
ers are  large  and  comfortable,  and  while  not 
rivalling  the  ocean  greyhounds  in  speed,  they 
are  in  many  ways  most  attractive,  if  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  they  do  not  carry  the 
crowd  of  passengers  to  be  found  on  the  faster 
vessels  of  the  better  known  and  more  popular 
lines  to  England  and  the  Continent. 

The  Doctor  and  the  Rambler  found  them- 
selves in  August  in  the  charming  city  of 

[3] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


Copenhagen,  a  city  which  presents  to  the 
visitor  much  of  the  brightness  and  chic  of 
Paris.  It  is  beautifully  situated,  wonderfully 
neat  and  clean,  and  contains  many  attractive 
buildings,  while  its  water-front  is  exception- 
ally fine.  Few  cities  in  the  world  can  boast 
of  a  more  charming  sight,  upon  a  Sunday 
afternoon  in  summer,  than  the  parks,  drive- 
ways, and  walks  along  its  superb  breakwater 
and  quays,  where  the  people  gather  in  their 
best  toggery  to  enjoy  the  outlook,  the  music, 
and  the  boat  races.  At  such  a  time  it  seems 
as  though  the  whole  population  of  the  city 
must  be  in  the  open,  and  a  brighter  and  more 
well  behaved  crowd,  placed  in  more  attractive 
environment  of  park  and  water,  it  would,  in- 
deed, be  hard  to  find. 

And  in  this  connection  we  must  not  over- 
look the  many  capital  orchestras  to  be  found 
in  Copenhagen,  for  we  doubt  whether  there 
are  many  places,  of  its  size,  in  all  Europe 
offering  greater  attractions  in  this  particular  or 
any  where  the  mass  of  the  population  is  more 


The  Start 

interested  in,  and  attentive  to,  the  best  class  of 
music.  It  must  be  acknowledged  that,  just  at 
present,  there  exists  an  extraordinary  rage  in 
both  Scandinavia  and  Holland  for  American 
"rag-time"  productions,  and  throughout  these 
countries  this  recent  introduction  is  received 
with  the  most  distinct  popular  enthusiasm. 
But  this  is  merely  a  side  issue  at  the  more 
popular  concerts,  and  it  must  not  be  taken  as 
a  gauge  of  the  musical  taste  of  the  people. 
Further,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  many 
of  the  orchestras  really  impart  an  extraor- 
dinary vim  and  freshness  to  certain  airs  and 
jingles  which  have  become  very  trite  and  worn 
threadbare  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Having  engaged  our  berth  in  the  sleeper  for 
Christiania,  we  started  at  nine  in  the  evening, 
but  not  until  it  had  been  once  more  impressed 
upon  us  that ' '  extra  baggage  "  (and  it  takes  very 
little  to  reach  the  "extra  "  point)  is  an  expensive 
luxury  when  travelling  in  any  part  of  this  coun- 
try. The  Doctor  prided  himself  on  having  re- 
duced his  impedimenta  to  the  minimum  point, 

[5] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


and  he  showed  but  little  Christian  charity  for 
the  idiosyncrasies  of  his  chum,  who,  in  addition 
to  a  very  limited  supply  of  personal  raiment, 
was  staggering  under  a  goodly  weight  of  pho- 
tographic paraphernalia,  to  say  nothing  of  tog- 
gery appertaining  to  the  gentle  art  of  fishing. 
But  having  accomplished  the  necessary  fee- 
ing of  porters,  we  found  ourselves  very  com- 
fortably placed  in  a  compartment  sleeping-car 
whose  arrangement  was,  in  many  ways,  a 
vast  improvement  over  our  regular  Pullmans. 
We  had  adjoining  compartments,  with  a 
door  opening  between,  and  with  the  bed 
made  "athwart  ship"  instead  of  "fore  and 
aft. "  While  these  arrangements  are  extremely 
attractive  in  many  ways,  at  a  cost  of  but  $1.25 
for  each  compartment,  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged that  the  rolling  stock  on  these  railroads 
is  by  no  means  up  to  our  standard,  and  the 
cars  or  carriages  are  so  light  in  their  construc- 
tion as  to  produce  much  noise  and  shaking 
when  the  train  is  in  motion,  and  this  is  not 
conducive  either  to  rest  or  conversation. 

[6] 


The  Start 

In  composing  himself  for  the  night  the 
Rambler  was  confronted  with  a  most  pleasant 
reminder  of  the  care  for  the  comfort  of  the  pas- 
senger exercised  by  the  Scandinavian  officials. 
Directly  facing  him  was  a  sign  with  the  le- 
gend "Nod  Broms"in  large  letters.  These 
words  were  the  last  remembrance  of  the  eve- 
ning recalled  by  the  passenger,  and  he  kept 
repeating  them  over  and  over  again  until 
sleep  interfered,  for  it  was  quite  clear, 
even  without  any  linguistic  capacity,  that 
these  words  meant  "pleasant  dreams." 
Nothing,  indeed,  could  have  proved  more 
efficacious  towards  this  end,  and  notwith- 
standing a  certain  realization  that,  during  the 
night,  there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  noise, 
the  Rambler  awoke  to  acknowledge  that  he 
had  been  favored  with  a  capital  eight  hours' 
rest.  It  was  therefore  a  trifle  aggravating — 
nay,  unchristian — for  the  Doctor  to  instruct 
him  in  the  morning  that  "Nod  Broms" 
merely  indicated  the  position  of  the  brakes! 

At  7.30,  the  Doctor  suddenly  started  up,  as 

[7] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


we  stopped  at  a  little  station,  and  decided,  in 
some  inscrutable  manner,  that  this  must  be 
the  place  for  coffee.  No  one  exists  who  can 
give  points  to  the  learned  gentleman  in  a  lead 
for  coffee,  and  the  Rambler  had  discovered, 
after  a  very  short  experience,  that  his  material 
happiness,  if  not  his  very  life,  depended  upon 
the  strictest  following  of  the  Doctor's  instruc- 
tions in  any  matter  pertaining  to  eating  or 
drinking.  So  we  rushed  into  the  cafe,  to  find 
an  excellent  cup  of  coffee,  which  was  expected 
to  stay  our  appetites  until  breakfast  at  9.30. 

But  when  this  hour  arrived  we  were  indeed 
in  a  state  where  all  conversation  had  stopped, 
and  where  collapse  was  imminent,  and  when 
we  pulled  up  at  the  restaurant  station  and 
realized  that  we  had  half  an  hour  for  the  im- 
portant function  of  breakfast,  we  both  went  to 
the  attack  with  a  grim  determination  to  do  or 
die  for  our  country. 

It  was  our  first  experience  of  a  railroad 
restaurant  of  this  description,  and  we  found  it 
very  interesting  and  instructive.  As  we  en- 

[8] 


The  Start 

tered  the  pleasant  little  room,  expecting  to 
find  waiters  to  attend  to  our  wants,  we  were 
surprised  to  note  the  total  absence  of  a  single 
individual  of  this  description.  However,  the 
apartment  was  not  empty  as  far  as  the  good 
things  of  life  are  concerned,  for  a  long  table, 
down  the  centre  of  the  room,  fairly  groaned 
with  the  weight  of  all  manner  of  food  and 
drink,  both  piping  hot  and  cold.  Fish,  steak, 
chicken,  partridge,  potatoes,  bread,  butter, 
cheese  of  many  varieties,  tea,  coffee,  and  beer 
were  spread  out  before  us  in  a  seductive  dis- 
play. The  Doctor,  on  all  such  occasions, 
shows  the  results  of  a  liberal  education  and  a 
keen  appreciation  of  what  is  going  on  around 
him,  and  his  chum  watched  his  methods  and 
followed  suit  with  great  care. 

Seizing  a  plate,  a  knife,  and  fork,  each  trav- 
eller makes  the  tour  of  the  table  and  fills  his 
plate  with  such  viands,  and  to  such  amount, 
as  may  meet  his  requirements,  and  the  view  of 
twenty  or  thirty  people,  all  inspired  by  a  com- 
mon purpose,  and  with  intense  earnestness 

[9] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


selecting  and  spearing  their  breakfast  in  this 
style  is,  at  the  first  experience,  comical  in  the 
extreme.  As  the  individual  plate  is  heaped 
up  with  the  required  condiments,  it  is  placed 
on  a  little  side  table,  and  its  owner  rushes, 
with  continued  earnestness,  to  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  where  he  helps  himself  to  a  cup 
of  coffee  or  chocolate,  which  he  carries  off  as 
an  accompaniment  to  the  provender  already 
captured.  The  strenuousness  upon  the  faces 
of  the  travellers  as  they  thus  forage  for  their 
breakfasts,  and  their  zeal  and  earnestness  at 
meals  is  one  of  the  interesting  peculiarities  of 
the  Scandinavian.  It  is  not  at  all  like  the  rush 
and  excitement  of  an  American  "quick  lunch," 
where  it  is  incumbent  upon  the  traveller  to 
bolt  the  maximum  amount  of  food  in  the 
minimum  of  time.  On  the  contrary,  the 
Swede  or  Norwegian  never  hastens  the  eat- 
ing part  of  his  repast,  but  before  he  begins 
his  meal  he  studies  the  lay  of  the  land  with 
the  deepest  solicitude  depicted  upon  his  coun- 
tenance, and  he  makes  his  selections  (and 

[10] 


The  Start 

they  are  liberal  ones)  with  a  close  and  keen 
appreciation  of  the  importance  of  the  occa- 
sion. Then  he  proceeds  to  consume  his 
quarry  leisurely  and  sedately,  and  without 
any  show  of  fuss  or  bustle. 

When  each  passenger  has  thus  effectively 
breakfasted  on  dishes  cooked  in  the  most  ap- 
petizing manner,  he  steps  up  to  a  desk  and 
settles  his  bill,  amounting  in  our  currency  to 
the  sum  of  thirty-five  cents.  The  Doctor 
looked  even  more  than  usually  contented 
upon  our  return  to  the  train.  "Did  you 
have  some  of  that  apple  butter  and  stewed 
prunes?"  he  asked.  The  Rambler,  who  had 
taken  extraordinary  pains  to  do  his  whole  duty 
by  everything  in  sight,  was  chagrined  to  ac- 
knowledge that  he  had  failed  in  this  particular, 
and  he  was  chided  by  his  chum,  who  said  that 
the  dish  in  question  was  food  for  the  gods, 
and  that  it  was  simply  a  sacrilege  to  fail  to 
take  advantage  of  such  opportunities. 

The  truth  is  that  one  of  the  surprises  that 
comes  to  even  the  most  abstemious  of  travellers 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


in  Scandinavia,  is  the  rapidity  with  which  an 
unusual  interest  is  developed  in  his  food,  and 
there  is  no  question  which  so  often  agitates 
his  mind  as  that  material  one  of  where  he  is 
to  secure  his  next  meal.  So  it  was  with  no 
little  satisfaction  that  we  received  a  visit  from 
the  conductor  about  noon,  who  asked  us  if  he 
should  order  lunch  for  us  at  the  next  station. 
The  Doctor,  with  his  most  profound  bow, 
conveyed  to  our  visitor  in  the  choicest  Norsk 
that  it  was  our  earnest  intention  to  secure  the 
benefit  of  everything  on  the  route  in  the  line 
of  food,  and  a  half-hour  later,  as  we  stopped 
for  a  few  minutes  at  a  little  station,  an  im- 
posing and  finely  uniformed  official  entered 
our  compartment  and  handed  us  two  covered 
tin  boxes.  Opening  them,  with  great  prompt- 
ness, and  examining  the  contents,  we  found 
four  fresh  and  most  appetizing  looking  sand- 
wiches, of  salmon,  sardine,  lamb,  and  cheese, 
a  bottle  of  beer  and  a  corkscrew  for  the  same, 
a  small  bottle  of  gin  (apparently  of  universal 
need  for  a  Scandinavian  lunch),  and  a  glass, 

[12] 


The  Start 

the  whole  being  very  neatly  and  attractively 
put  up,  and  just  filling  the  capacity  of  the  box. 

This  proved  eminently  satisfactory  and, 
with  the  exception  of  the  gin,  which  we  found 
a  little  too  foreign  for  our  palates,  we  soon 
emptied  our  hampers,  and  the  Doctor  again 
began  to  cogitate  as  to  whether  we  would 
reach  Christiania  in  time  for  dinner. 

It  has  already  been  suggested  that  this  gen- 
tleman possesses  a  marked  linguistic  ability 
which,  unfortunately,  is  not  shared  by  his 
chum.  It  had  therefore  been  mutually  agreed 
between  the  twain  that  the  former  should  act 
as  general  conductor  and  financier  of  the  ex- 
pedition. The  Rambler  felt  it  a  distinct  diplo- 
matic triumph  when  he  had  freed  himself  from 
all  responsibility,  and  thus  occupied  a  position 
to  enjoy  whatsoever  life  had  to  offer  without 
the  mental  strain  of  hotel  bills  and  pourboires. 
It  was  perhaps  a  little  unchristian  and  not  al- 
together fair  for  him  to  secretly  enjoy  a  little 
episode  which  occurred  a  few  minutes  later. 

A  truly  magnificent  official,  looking  like  the 

[18] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


admiral  of  the  fleet,  appeared,  and,  making  a 
profound  bow,  said  a  few  words  to  the  Doc- 
tor. The  latter,  of  course  clearly  compre- 
hending the  statement,  and  never  to  be 
outdone  in  politeness,  rivalled  our  visitor  in 
the  profundity  of  his  bow  and,  pointing  to  the 
two  empty  boxes,  indicated,  in  choice  Swedish, 
that  the  lunch  had  proven  very  acceptable 
and  that  the  boxes  were  now  empty  and  at 
the  service  of  the  commissary  department  of 
the  road.  This  did  not  appear  to  entirely  sat- 
isfy our  visitor,  who,  with  some  dignity,  tried 
to  impress  upon  us  that  he  was  not  a  lunch- 
man  but  that  he  was  an  official  of  another 
order,  and  it  was  not  until  the  lapse  of  some 
minutes  in  this  opera  bouffe  performance  that 
we  realized  our  unconscious  insult  to  the 
Swedish  Government,  as  the  gentleman  was 
none  other  than  a  customs  inspector  who  had 
called  to  assure  himself  that  we  were  not 
smugglers!  If  the  Doctor  felt  any  embarrass- 
ment at  the  situation  he  has  so  developed 
himself  in  diplomacy  that  he  failed  to  show  it, 


The  Start 

and,  with  an  expression  as  though  he  had 
always  known  the  circumstances,  he  pro- 
ceded  to  open  his  valise  for  investigation. 

For  some  hours  we  passed  through  a  fine 
rolling  and  prosperous-looking  section  of 
Swedish  farming  country,  the  harvest  of  grain 
fully  employing  its  entire  population  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  the  first,  if  we  could 
judge  by  a  superficial  view,  apparently  doing 
more  than  their  full  share  of  resting,  while 
the  balance  of  the  family  were  busily  and 
picturesquely  engaged,  with  sickle  and  rake. 
At  3  P.  M.  we  pulled  into  the  station  at 
Christiania,  where  our  luggage  received  a  pro 
forma  examination  by  the  Custom-house  of- 
ficials, and  we  were  soon  comfortably  estab- 
lished at  an  excellent,  though  perhaps  unduly 
pretentious  hotel. 


[15] 


II 

CHRISTIANIA 

THE  capital  of  Norway  is  finely  situated, 
with  an  excellent  harbor,  sea  wall,  and 
quays.  It  is  a  bright  and,  in  many  ways,  a  very 
attractive  city,  but  withal  somewhat  modern 
in  its  effect,  and  coming,  as  we  had,  direct 
from  the  charms  of  Copenhagen,  we  were 
doubtless  less  impressed  by  its  beauty  than 
would  otherwise  have  been  the  case.  Assur- 
edly the  general  effect  of  the  town  on  a  bright 
summer  afternoon,  when  the  entire  population 
of  the  capital  is  apparently  out  on  the  streets 
and  promenades,  is  very  bright  and  attractive. 
Through  the  main  street,  Karl  Johans  Gade, 
this  crowd  surges  to  and  fro,  turning  into  the 
pretty  little  park  where  the  band  is  playing, 
and  at  the  end  of  this  avenue  the  visitor  sees, 
over  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  the  palace  stand- 
ing on  a  considerable  eminence,  and  present- 
Lie] 


Christiania 


ing  quite  an  imposing  appearance.  The  scene 
is  almost  lively  if  one  may  use  such  an  expres- 
sion in  connection  with  these  dignified  and 
extremely  quiet  Scandinavians. 

What  is  perhaps  the  most  marked  pecu- 
liarity noted  by  the  visitor  in  watching  these 
people,  is  their  extraordinary  and  quite  over- 
whelming politeness  as  shown  by  the  hat- 
lifting  of  the  entire  male  population.  This,  it 
seemed  to  us,  is  carried  to  an  extent  never 
before  witnessed  by  us  in  any  other  land. 
Apparently  a  man  may  meet  an  acquaintance 
a  dozen  times  a  day,  and  yet  it  is  strictly  in 
order  that,  each  and  every  time,  he  must  en- 
tirely lift  his  hat  from  his  head  in  passing. 
And  it  will  not  answer  to  make  this  acknowl- 
edgement by  merely  touching  the  hat,  for,  to 
be  in  good  form,  one  must  accompany  the 
act  with  a  profound  bow.  This  habit,  which 
has  many  attractive  features,  pertains  to  all 
stations  in  life,  and  is  as  much  practised  by 
the  shop  keeper  and  mechanic  as  by  the  so- 
called  "400,"  if  such  exist  in  Norway.  When 

[17] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


a  customer  enters  a  shop  he  is  expected — be 
he  not  a  foreign  barbarian — to  make  a  pro- 
found bow  and  to  remove  his  '"head-gear" 
entirely  while  making  his  purchases,  while  this 
"hat  act"  on  the  part  of  porters  and  door 
boys  in  hotels  becomes,  in  its  acknowledg- 
ment, somewhat  wearing  upon  the  elbow  of 
the  visitor. 

There  are  two  classes  who  are  excepted 
from  this  rule — the  police  and  the  military, 
and  these  always  salute  with  great  care  and  pre- 
cision, but  never  lift  their  hats  even  to  a  lady. 
When  a  visitor  approaches  a  gen-d'arme  to 
ask  for  information  he  invariably  touches  his 
hat  before  addressing  the  officer,  and  the  latter 
quickly  comes  to  "attention  "  and  salutes  be- 
fore replying  to  the  inquiry.  This  habit  of  hat- 
lifting  certainly  presents  admirable  features, 
but  the  visitor  is  nevertheless  impressed  by  the 
tremendous  amount  of  wasted  energy  which 
is  thus  lost  in  this  polite  land,  and  it  would  seem 
as  though  such  force  properly  conserved  might 
produce  a  power  of  no  little  magnitude. 

[18] 


Christiania 

The  police  of  both  Norway  and  Sweden 
present  a  very  attractive  and  military  appear- 
ance. The  men  are  evidently  selected  with 
great  care  for  their  size  and  soldierly  appear- 
ance, and  the  result  is  a  really  extremely  fine 
looking  body.  They  are  armed  with  short 
swords,  and  as  they  always  walk  on  their 
beats  in  the  middle  ot  the  street,  they  are  in 
evidence  even  at  a  distance  and  they  can  see 
and  be  seen  when  wanted.  We  hoped  against 
hope  that  we  might  be  treated  to  a  first-class 
row  of  some  kind  so  that  we  could  see  their 
method  of  using  their  weapons,  but  this  satis- 
faction was  denied  us.  Failing  this,  it  was 
our  good  fortune  to  be  present,  at  their  arrival 
from  Stockholm,  of  the  King  and  Queen,  when 
the  whole  police  force  was  on  duty  to  keep 
the  way  clear.  The  crowd,  while  large,  was 
of  a  most  orderly  nature,  but  it  seemed  to  an 
outsider  as  though  the  enthusiasm  for  the 
sovereign  was  of  the  most  moderate  and  per- 
functory description. 

Another  somewhat  different  experience  was 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


the  arrival,  by  steamer,  of  a  large  party  of 
Cook's  tourists,  who  landed  on  the  quay  and 
were  met  by  a  score  of  barouches,  presided 
over  by  jehus  in  white  gloves,  and  the  most 
magnificent  of  uniforms  and  hats.  Not  until 
all  the  mourners  were  properly  seated  did 
this  funereal-looking  procession  start  on  its 
journey  of  personally  conducted  sightseeing, 
and  the  cortege  wound  its  dreary  way  through 
the  streets,  stopping,  ever  and  anon,  until  the 
conductor  could  pass  from  carriage  to  carriage 
and  recite  his  monologue  for  the  benefit  of 
the  occupants.  We  devoutly  hoped  that  this 
was  the  last  of  such  processions  for  the  season, 
and  happily  our  prayer  was  granted. 

One  day  in  Christiania  sufficed  to  lay  out 
the  itinerary  of  our  trip,  and  early  the  follow- 
ing morning  we  were  packed  and  ready  to 
start  upon  our  northern  journey.  But  we  had 
decided  to  leave  behind  us  all  our  impedi- 
menta not  absolutely  required  during  the  next 
six  weeks,  and  we  therefore  "got  under 
way  "  with  the  minimum  amount  of  baggage, 

[20] 


Christiania 


although  the  Doctor  pointed  out  that  the 
avoirdupois  of  his  chum's  belongings  was  far 
in  excess  of  his  own  baggage.  The  fact  is  that 
the  learned  gentleman  looks  with  scant  favor 
upon  such  insanities — or  inanities — as  either 
photography  or  fishing,  and  the  Rambler, 
perhaps  unhappily  addicted  to  both  these 
offences,  did  not,  at  the  time,  summon  up 
courage  to  confess  the  number  of  pounds 
these  represented  in  the  bulk  of  his  belongings. 

We  took  tickets  for  Otta,  the  terminus  of  the 
road  running  to  the  northwest,  and  we  found 
ourselves  seated  in  an  extremely  comfortable 
roker  or  smoking  compartment  which  we  had 
to  ourselves  during  the  entire  journey.  We 
were  impressed  by  the  fact  that  although  we 
had  been  compelled  to  check  two  pieces  of 
baggage  no  charge  was  made  for  this. 

The  train  service  was  certainly  excellent, 
the  day  superb,  and  as  we  began  to  realize 
shortly  after  leaving  Christiania  that  we  were 
on  a  marked  upward  grade,  and  that  our 
course  for  the  next  few  days  was  to  be  con- 

[21] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


tinually  rising,  our  spirits  followed  suit  and 
we  settled  ourselves  to  the  constantly  chang- 
ing view  and  our  cigars,  with  great  enjoy- 
ment and  buoyancy  of  spirit. 

At  Eidsvold,  forty  miles  from  Christiania, 
we  reached  Lake  Mjosen,  the  largest  lake  in 
Norway,  being  about  sixty  miles  long.  The 
farming  country  throughout  this  section  is 
very  picturesque  and  charming,  and  here,  for 
the  first  time,  we  saw  the  Norwegian  method 
of  making  hay.  This  was  the  second  crop  of 
grass  and  it  was  certainly  not  over  four 
inches  in  height.  Being  so  short  and  so  light, 
nothing  but  the  sharpest  possible  scythe  can 
be  used  in  cutting  it,  and  even  the  smallest 
stones  must  be  cleared  off  the  field  by  con- 
stant picking.  Now  when  the  grass  is  cut  in 
this  wet  climate,  it  cannot  be  cured  in  the 
ordinary  way  on  the  ground,  but,  instead  of 
this,  it  is  hung  upon  hurdles  distributed  over 
the  field.  These  hurdles  are  about  five  feet 
high  and  every  spear  of  grass  being  most 
carefully  raked  up,  this  is  hung  on  the  hurdles 

[22] 


Christiania 


by  the  women  and  children  that  it  may  get 
the  full  drying  benefit  of  the  sun  and  wind. 
Indeed  the  economy  exercised  in  preserving 
every  handful  of  the  crop  is  quite  marvellous 
to  any  one  accustomed  to  the  waste  of  our 
farming  methods,  and  the  meadows,  when 
cut  and  raked,  are  as  clean  and  neat  as  the 
best  kept  lawn,  while  the  many  long  lines  of 
grass-covered  fences,  arranged  at  various 
angles  throughout  the  fields,  remind  one  of 
regiments  of  infantry,  in  company  front,  ready 
to  charge  at  word  of  command. 

The  construction  of  the  railroad  along  many 
of  the  precipitous  banks  bordering  the  lake 
seemed  to  us  as  being  extremely  fine,  while  the 
striking  cloud  effects  over  the  lake  and  upon 
the  distant  mountains  beyond,  added  im- 
mensely to  the  charm  of  the  scene. 

But  still,  as  has  been  our  custom,  we  were 
more  than  ready  for  our  breakfast,  which  was 
somewhat  later  than  we  considered  at  all 
orthodox,  and  when  we  reached  Hamar  our 
zealous  attention  to  the  requirements  of  the 

[28] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


hour  showed  distinctly  that  we  were  already 
beginning  to  accustom  ourselves  to  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  the  land  through  which 
we  were  travelling.  Here  also,  as  a  bonne 
bouche,  we  invested,  to  the  extent  of  three 
ore,  in  a  paper  bag  filled  with  cherries  which, 
on  the  top,  looked  extremely  fine.  But,  re- 
membering experiences  in  our  own  favored 
land,  we  took  pains,  after  the  train  had  started, 
to  turn  out  the  contents,  and  we  were  as 
surprised  as  pleased  to  find  the  fruit  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cornucopia  quite  as  good  as 
that  on  top.  It  was  our  first  taste  of  minor 
Norwegian  honesty,  of  which  more  will  be 
said  later,  but  it  was  one  of  those  things, 
trifling  in  themselves,  which  gave  us  a  very 
pleasant  impression  of  the  common  people, — 
an  impression  which  was  more  than  borne 
out  by  subsequent  experience. 

We  reached  Otta,  the  railroad  terminus,  at 
4  P.  M.,  and  while  we  had  no  fault  to  find 
with  this  method  of  travel  in  Norway,  it  was 
no  little  satisfaction  to  realize  that,  for  the 

[24] 


Christiania 

next  few  weeks,  we  should  see  no  more  rail- 
roads nor  hear  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive, 
and  that  our  movements  would  not  be  cir- 
cumscribed by  any  hard-and-fast  time-table. 
We  welcomed  Otta,  therefore,  with  a  school- 
boy's enthusiasm  for  a  holiday,  and  with  the 
liveliest  of  anticipations  in  regard  to  our  new 
mode  of  travel. 

And  the  little  place  is  delightfully  situated 
for  just  such  a  start  as  we  were  proposing  to 
make,  consisting,  as  it  does,  of  but  a  couple 
of  small  hotels  and  a  dozen  scattered  houses 
presenting  a  singularly  peaceful  and  inoffen- 
sive appearance  for  a  railroad  centre.  The 
valley  itself  looked  charmingly  on  this  bright 
August  afternoon.  Shut  in  to  the  north,  east, 
and  west  by  hills  of  no  mean  size,  it  stretched 
away  to  the  south,  ever  widening,  the  rail- 
road winding  through  it,  from  side  to  side,  in 
search  of  the  place  of  least  resistance.  Look- 
ing to  the  northwest,  the  direction  in  which 
we  were  bound,  we  saw  that  the  valley  rap- 
idly contracted  at  its  upper  end,  while  the 

[25] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


mountains  became  much  higher  and  more 
rugged,  indeed,  far  off  to  the  north  we  could 
see  a  snow-capped  peak  as  a  cloud  lifted 
from  the  top  of  the  mountain.  A  jolly  and 
active  little  stream  ran  through  the  centre  of 
the  valley,  and  along  the  banks  of  this,  the 
farming  folk  were  busily  engaged  in  the  har- 
vest, which,  because  of  much  rain,  had  been 
greatly  delayed. 

We  were  soon  at  the  inn,  but  a  few  steps 
from  the  station,  and  waiting  for  the  an- 
nouncement of  dinner.  In  a  wonderfully 
short  space  of  time  this  was  ready  for  us,  and 
we  enjoyed  greatly  the  excellent  meal,  and 
not  less  the  capital  cup  of  coffee  served  after 
it,  in  the  little  garden  at  the  rear  of  the  hotel. 
After  our  cigars  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  and 
we  were  quite  ready  to  be  introduced  to  our 
stolkjaere  and  start  on  our  evening  drive  of 
twelve  miles. 

This  trap  had  been  ordered  for  six  o'clock, 
and  precisely  at  the  hour  it  appeared,  and  our 
luggage  was  taken  out  to  be  stowed  in  this 

[26] 


Christiania 


unique  and  most  convenient  of  vehicles.  The 
stolkjcere  is  a  two-wheel  pony  cart,  the  body 
of  which  is  hung  very  high,  with  a  commo- 
dious seat  for  two  passengers.  Back  of  this, 
on  a  little  perch — it  can  scarcely  be  called  a 
seat — and  with  his  feet  hanging  "  overboard," 
so  to  speak,  sits  the  driver  or  skydgut, 
Under  the  seat,  and  piled  up  around  the 
driver,  is  the  luggage,  while,  beneath  the 
floor  of  the  vehicle,  is  carried  a  large  bundle 
of  hay  and  a  bag  of  oats  for  the  pony. 

The  "motive  power"  itself  is  hitched  to 
the  shafts,  but  instead  of  having  these  sup- 
ported by  a  saddle  in  the  ordinary  way,  the 
weight  of  the  load  is  borne  by  two  metal 
plates  on  either  side  of  the  backbone  of  the 
horse,  and  these  supports  seem  to  serve  every 
purpose  for  which  they  are  intended,  and 
they  certainly  do  away  with  the  danger  of 
galling  the  animal's  backbone,  an  accident 
which  is  often  to  be  expected  in  the  use  of 
two-wheel  vehicles  when  the  regular  saddle 
is  employed.  Neither  is  there  any  breeching 

[27] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


used  in  the  harness,  and  in  this  respect  the 
method  pursued  should  be  entirely  satisfactory 
to  the  old  lady  who  always  "trusted  in 
Providence  until  the  breeching  broke."  The 
weight  of  the  load  on  a  down  grade  is  also 
borne  by  these  saddle  plates,  and  the  ponies 
themselves  being  intelligent  and  sure-footed 
in  the  extreme,  stumbling  on  their  part  is  very 
rare,  even  on  the  most  lively  trot  down  hill. 

At  length  our  luggage  was  carefully  stowed 
and  we  were  glad  to  realize  that  we  had  lim- 
ited ourselves  in  its  bulk,  for  it  is  doubtful  if 
another  ten  pounds  could  possibly  have  found 
an  abiding  place.  Our  hotel  score  having 
been  settled,  we  were  ready  to  start,  the 
Doctor,  who  attended  to  all  these  trouble- 
some financial  transactions,  coming  out  of 
the  house  just  as  his  chum  had  completed  his 
inspection  of  the  stowage  of  our  belongings. 
Now,  the  learned  section  of  our  expedition 
implicitly  believes  that  it  is  incumbent  upon 
travellers  in  a  strange  land  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  the  customs  of  the  country,  and 

[2S] 


Christiania 


the  Doctor  was  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  cordial  politeness  to  all  those  with  whom 
he  might  come  in  contact.  So,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  Rambler,  who  had  evidently 
failed  in  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  circum- 
stances, he  marched  up  to  the  skud,  and, 
raising  his  hat,  proceeded  to  shake  hands  in 
the  most  effusive  way  with  our  driver.  The 
latter,  somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  warmth 
of  the  greeting,  doubtless  credited  the  ex- 
treme politeness  of  the  staid  and  always  digni- 
fied Doctor  to  our  excellent  dinner  and  capital 
bottle  of  burgundy,  while  his  chum,  in  his 
choicest  Scandinavian,  ventured  to  point  out 
that  the  act  was  only  "an  evidence  of  good 
faith,  and  was  not  necessarily  for  publication." 
Comfortably  seated  in  the  stolhjcere,  and 
waving  adieux  to  the  Boniface  of  Otta,  we 
started  off  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  quite 
ready  to  appreciate  the  many  delights  of  road 
travelling  in  Norway.  If  properly  stowed,  the 
weight  carried  on  these  stolhjceres  is  so  ad- 
justed as  to  make  the  riding  absolutely  easy ;  a 

[29] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


wide  seat  and  a  high  back,  just  at  the  right 
angle,  renders  the  position  of  the  traveller  most 
comfortable,  while  a  substantial  leather  apron 
is  provided  which  is  very  effective  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening,  and  is  also  a  protection  against 
any  but  the  heaviest  rain.  For  those  who 
crave  greater  safety,  covered  carriages  are  pro- 
vided, but  these  require  a  pair  of  horses,  and 
as  the  driver  sits  in  front  of  his  passengers, 
his  body  greatly  interferes  with  the  satisfactory 
outlook  of  the  traveller, — the  marked  ad- 
vantage of  the  stolkjcere  being  in  its  passen- 
gers uninterrupted  view  of  country  ahead  and 
at  either  side  of  the  road. 

It  is  quite  easy  to  realize  that  upon  a  New 
England  country  road  the  wear  and  tear  of  a 
two-wheel  vehicle  of  this  description  might  be 
somewhat  fatiguing,  to  say  the  least,  but,  hap- 
pily, Norway,  with  great  justice,  prides  herself 
upon  making,  and  keeping  in  superb  order, 
the  finest  stretches  of  roadways  in  the  world. 
In  all  of  our  several  hundred  miles  of  such 
highway  travel,  on  the  level,  or  on  the  steep- 

[80] 


Christiania 


est  grades  ever  permitted  by  the  road  engineers 
in  this  country,  and  on  the  highest  mountain 
ranges, — everywhere  the  same  rule  exists  of 
a  perfectly  even  grade,  a  wonderfully  smooth 
surface,  and  the  absence  of  even  the  smallest 
stone  to  jar  the  passenger.  A  very  few  miles 
was  sufficient  to  impress  this  upon  us,  and 
many  leagues  of  travel  later  but  served  to  con- 
firm our  first  impressions. 

And  what  a  delight  was  this,  our  first  eve- 
ning drive!  We  started  in  a  light  sprinkle  of 
rain — which  is  perhaps  almost  a  daily  experi- 
ence even  at  this  season  in  Norway  —  but  this 
was  followed  so  quickly  by  the  most  brilliant 
of  sunshine  that  it  seemed  almost  an  advan- 
tage in  making  us  more  appreciative  of  the 
evening  beauty.  Our  road  began  to  ascend 
almost  immediately  upon  leaving  Otta  and  it 
wound  up  the  ever-narrowing  valley,  now  on 
the  right  and  then  on  the  left  of  the  little  river 
which  flowed  a  most  irregular  course  through 
its  centre,  and  which  became  more  and  more 
energetic  as  we  proceeded. 

[81] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


What  interested  us  at  once  was  the  superb 
character  of  the  road  building,  already  referred 
to,  but  which  is  entitled  to  a  little  fuller  de- 
scription. Not  only  is  the  surface  of  all  the 
main  highways  as  perfect  as  the  best  park 
roadways  in  our  country,  but,  for  the  security 
of  travellers,  stones,  three  or  four  feet  high, 
are  always  placed  on  the  outer  edge  of  every 
road  except  such  as  run  through  an  abso- 
lutely level  valley.  While  it  is  true  therefore 
that,  through  many  of  the  high  mountain  dis- 
tricts, the  driveway  is  very  narrow  for  passing 
teams,  and  is  full  of  the  most  troublesome  but 
picturesque  twists  and  turns,  the  outside 
edge,  often  hanging  over  a  precipice  of  many 
hundred  feet,  is  so  thoroughly  protected  that 
accidents  are  almost  impossible. 

Over  this  road,  and  with  the  mountains  on 
either  hand  increasing  in  size  and  boldness,  as 
we  progressed  from  mile  to  mile,  and  with  the 
beauties  of  the  August  evening  growing  more 
and  more  striking  as  the  sun  went  down  in 
the  west,  we  reached  Laurgaard,  the  first,  too 

[32] 


Christiania 


short,  stage  of  our  journey,  finding  there  a 
comfortable  inn  which  happily  harbored  no 
guests  but  ourselves.  Daylight  being  still 
bright,  after  our  supper,  we  enjoyed  a  capital 
walk,  and  it  was  long  after  nine  o'clock  before 
it  became  too  dark  for  tramping,  and  then  we 
were  quite  ready  to  take  advantage  of  the 
very  comfortable  sleeping  quarters  provided. 


[88] 


Ill 

LESJEWERK  AND   ORMEIM 

THE  Doctor  is  a  good  deal  of  a  philosopher 
and  he  is  ready  to  accept,  in  a  thor- 
oughly becoming  and  appreciative  manner, 
what  the  gods  provide  for  the  traveller. 
Nevertheless  he  possesses  quite  distinct  views 
on  all  matters  pertaining  to  the  amenities  of 
life,  and  he  fully  believes  it  his  duty  to  en- 
deavor to  improve  upon  existing  methods  if 
these  seem,  in  any  particular,  imperfect.  It  is 
not  that  he  is  a  reformer  altogether,  for  he 
considers  such  as  having  a  tendency  to  be- 
come somewhat  obnoxious  by  reason  of 
aggressive  methods.  He  cannot  however 
justify  a  failure  to  exercise  his  responsibility 
in  life  when,  by  a  little  firm  but  kindly  precept, 
he  finds  himself  able  to  point  out  to  the 
natives  certain  errors  of  their  ways.  Now 
one  of  his  particular  aversions  is  a  cold  coffee 

[84] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

cup  at  his  morning's  meal,  and  he  insists, 
with  kindly  but  strenuous  emphasis,  that 
none  but  those  in  outer  darkness,  and  with 
more  or  less  depravity,  will  be  satisfied  with 
such  barbaric  conditions. 

So  at  our  breakfast  he  handed  his  cup  to 
the  waitress  and  informed  her  in  his  choicest 
Norwegian,  and  with  his  most  courteous 
smile,  that  he  wanted  hot  water  put  into  that 
cup  and  permitted  to  stand  there  until  the 
vessel  was  well  warmed.  The  maiden  took 
the  cup  and,  with  an  expression  of  marked 
and  winning  intelligence,  brought  it  back 
filled  with  piping  hot  coffee.  This  was  or- 
dered turned  out  and  the  lesson  repeated 
slowly,  resulting  in  the  cup  being  brought 
back  half  filled  with  hot  water.  Delighted 
with  the  success  of  his  efforts  the  Doctor  told 
the  somewhat  bewildered  waitress  to  turn 
this  out  and  fill  the  cup  with  coffee,  this  re- 
sulting in  coffee  being  added  to  the  partially 
cooled  water,  a  condition  of  things  which  in 
a  less  resolute  man  would  have  produced 

[35] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


despair.  Not  so  with  the  Doctor.  He  per- 
sisted, most  gallantly,  until  he  had  accom- 
plished his  purpose  and  he  then  sipped  his 
coffee  with  the  relish  of  conscious  rectitude — 
the  balance  of  his  breakfast  in  the  meantime 
having  become  cold.  This  educational 
method  was  pursued  throughout  our  entire 
trip,  with  many  comical  variations,  but  there 
is  a  rumor  that  many  buxom  Norwegian 
waitresses  have  recently  gone  mad. 

We  had  thirty-six  miles  to  cover  to  Les- 
jevaerk,  our  next-stopping  place,  and  our 
breakfast  had  been  served,  as  requested,  at 
seven  o'clock.  It  was  an  exquisite  morning, 
clear  and  with  brilliant  sunshine,  but  with  a 
bracing  snap  to  the  air  which  made  life  seem 
really  worth  while  and  exercise  distinctly  in 
order.  So,  leaving  our  stolkjcere  to  follow  us, 
we  started  ahead  to  view  some  rapids  three 
miles  farther  up  the  road. 

But  a  few  words  are  in  order  about  this 
method  of  travelling.  The  rate  of  payment 
per  kilometre  is  fixed  by  government  regula- 

[36] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

tion,  but  if  the  distance  between  two  points  is 
twenty  kilometres  you  pay  for  this  number 
going  down-hill  or  on  the  level.  If  however 
your  course  between  these  two  points  is  up- 
hill you  are  expected  to  pay  for  thirty  kilo- 
metres. But  this  is  always  specified  at  the 
posting  inns  so  that  there  need  be  no  shadow 
of  a  dispute,  and,  as  noted  elsewhere,  never  in 
our  whole  trip  was  there  any  question  as  to  the 
amount  properly  due.  Of  course  a  pourboire 
is  in  order  when  your  skud  reaches  the 
end  of  his  section  of  your  journey,  but  this  is 
but  a  trifle  and  it  is,  apparently,  always  re- 
ceived with  appreciation  and  a  shake  of  the 
hand.  Further,  the  traveller  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  "baiting"  of  either  horse  or  man 
when  he  stops,  and  no  charge  is  made  for 
this  in  your  reckoning,  a  condition  of  things 
which  greatly  simplifies  the  settlements  of 
the  journey. 

The  three  miles'  walk  was  invigorating 
in  the  extreme  and  we  had  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity to  watch  the  rushing  torrent  of  the 

[87] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


river  before  the  stolkjcere  reached  us.  The 
stream  at  this  point  is  crossed  by  a  bridge 
over  which  the  road  passes,  and  this  bridge, 
as  is  almost  universally  the  case  in  Norway, 
is  constructed  in  the  most  thorough  and 
picturesque  manner  of  roughly  hewn  stone, 
its  two  arches,  through  which  the  wild  tor- 
rent plunges,  being  of  beautiful  proportions. 
Here  we  noticed  that  the  stream  over  which 
a  bridge  passes  is  always  named,  and  this 
name  is  duly  recorded  on  a  tablet  on  the 
bridge.  This  custom  is  universal  and  even 
the  most  trifling  of  rivers  is  honored  by 
these  tablets,  which  are  neatly  and  durably 
constructed  of  metal. 

Then  another  feature  of  these  highways, 
showing  the  system  put  into  their  mainte- 
nance, impressed  us  greatly.  Every  few  rods 
on  the  road,  but  greatly  varying  in  their  dis- 
tance apart,  are  placed  high  stones  on  end 
looking  not  unlike  headstones  in  an  old 
country  churchyard.  Upon  these  are  clearly 
painted  the  name  of  the  farmer  in  charge  of 

[88] 


Lesjevserk  and  Ormeim 

this  particular  section  and  the  exact  length  of 
the  highway  under  his  care.  We  found  that, 
apparently,  this  responsibility  does  not  rest 
alone  with  the  owner  of  the  property  im- 
mediately adjacent  to  the  highway,  but  that 
it  is  adjusted  so  that  all  farmers  bear  their 
share  of  work  in  proportion  to  the  size  of 
their  holdings.  This  apportionment  must 
certainly  require  no  slight  amount  of  careful 
calculation,  but,  however  done,  the  result  is, 
at  least  from  the  traveller's  standpoint,  all 
that  could  possibly  be  desired.  Whether 
this  method  would  be  equally  satisfactory  if 
pursued  in  New  York  State  or  in  Connecticut 
may  certainly  be  questioned. 

We  were  still  steadily  rising  mile  by  mile 
and  the  valley  became  narrower  as  we  pro- 
gressed, while  the  mountains  on  either  side 
gained  in  height,  many  of  them  being  snow 
capped.  The  farms  became  smaller  and  more 
irregular,  and  the  little  fields  sloped  more 
and  more  until  they  reached  an  angle  which 
seemed  about  forty-five  degrees.  One  man  was 

[89] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


ploughing  for  his  winter  grain  and  we  noted, 
with  much  interest,  his  method  of  overcoming 
the  difficulties  due  to  the  angular  peculiarities 
of  his  little  plot.  To  run  a  furrow  directly  up- 
hill was  more  than  his  team  could  accomplish; 
to  turn  the  sod  up-hill  was  also  out  of  the 
question.  The  only  way  in  which  the  work 
could  be  managed  was  to  plough  in  one  direc- 
tion only  and  return  at  the  end  of  each  furrow 
to  his  starting-point.  This  would  seem  a 
wondrous  slow  method  in  a  country  where 
time  was  of  any  object,  and  one  could  not 
but  speculate  whether  the  soil  of  a  field  thus 
treated  for  a  few  years  must  not,  eventually, 
reach  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  leaving  the  up- 
per part  entirely  bare. 

There  are  post  houses  situated  on  these 
roads  about  every  ten  miles,  and  when 
journeying  all  day  it  is  the  invariable  custom 
to  bait  once  in  the  morning  for  twenty  min- 
utes, then  two  hours'  rest  is  taken  at  midday, 
while  another  twenty  minutes'  feed  is  given 
to  the  horse  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 

[40] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

It  is  this  considerate  care  of  the  welfare  of  the 
animal  which  renders  possible  the  accom- 
plishing of  so  many  miles  of  travel,  day  after 
day,  with  the  same  pony.  These  breaks  of 
twenty  minutes  in  travel  are  by  no  means  un- 
pleasant, as  they  offer  us  a  capital  opportunity 
for  a  walk  ahead,  the  stolkjcere  overtaking 
us  a  mile  or  two  farther  on. 

The  section  through  which  we  are  pass- 
ing, the  great  Romsdal  Valley,  becomes 
wilder  and  more  impressive  in  its  surround- 
ings as  we  proceed,  and  while  one  is  almost 
overwhelmed  by  the  grandeur  around  him, 
the  traveller  can  scarcely  fail  of  a  feeling  of 
oppression  at  the  hardness  of  nature  and  the 
extraordinary  difficulties  under  which  the  poor 
inhabitants  labor  in  wringing  from  the  soil 
a  bare  existence.  How  they  manage,  from 
these  trifling  patches  of  barley,  oats,  and  po- 
tatoes, to  keep  body  and  soul  together  is  past 
comprehension,  neither  is  it  easily  understood 
how  these  little  plots  of  meadow,  even  under 
the  wonderful  care  exercised  in  cutting  and 

[41] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


harvesting  every  blade  of  grass,  can  furnish 
food  for  the  cattle  which  must  be  cared  for 
during  the  long  winter  months.  But  the  zeal 
shown  in  securing  enough  fodder  is  admirable 
in  many  ways,  albeit  somewhat  pathetic. 
Not  only,  as  already  stated,  is  every  square 
yard  of  ground  capable  of  producing  grass 
mown  twice  during  the  season,  and  infinite 
care  taken  in  curing  the  crop,  but  everything 
else  that  can  possibly  be  used  for  fodder  is 
saved  with  scrupulous  economy.  Thus  the 
ash  trees  are  shorn  of  all  their  lower  leaves 
and  branches,  and  as  though  this  were  not 
meretricious  enough,  the  potato  tops,  when 
they  reach  their  full  growth,  are  also  cut,  and 
both  these  and  the  ash  leaves  are  dried  upon 
the  hurdles  in  the  same  manner  as  the  grass. 
Now  the  poverty  which  leads  to  such  a 
course  as  this  cannot  but  fill  the  mind  of  a 
foreign  farmer  with  sadness,  and  recall  the 
jingle  of  childhood, — 

"  Oh,  potatoes  they  are  small,  over  there, 
And  they  eats  them  tops  and  all,  over  there." 

[42] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

Certainly  the  size  of  the  tubers  in  a  soil  which 
ought  to  produce  a  good  crop  is  ridiculously 
small,  and  this  is  clearly  due,  first  to  the 
practice  of  using  the  seed  over  and  over  again 
in  the  same  land,  then  to  invariably  selecting 
the  smallest  potatoes  for  planting,  and  finally, 
to  add  insult  to  injury,  to  the  suicidal  pro- 
cedure of  cutting  off  the  tops  of  the  plants 
just  at  a  time  when  the  nutriment  in  these 
would  naturally  go  to  the  enlargement  of  the 
tubers.  One  man  whom  we  met  had  an  ex- 
traordinary fine  crop  of  large  potatoes.  In- 
terested in  learning  his  method  we  found  that 
he  had  been  to  America  three  times,  that  he 
brought  new  seed  from  there,  and  that,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  version,  he  "wasn't  such 

a fool  as  to  cut  off  the  tops  before  the 

potatoes  were  fully  grown." 

But  the  Doctor  is  not  of  an  agricultural  turn 
of  mind,  greatly  preferring  the  study  of  hu- 
man nature  to  the  investigation  of  crop  meth- 
ods. His  special  and  laudable  interest  just 
at  present  is  to  supply  the  children  whom  we 

[48] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


pass  upon  the  road  with  chocolate,  a  plentiful 
stock  of  which  he  has,  apparently,  at  his 
command.  So,  when  we  come  to  a  group 
of  youngsters,  our  chariot  is  stopped  and  he 
beckons  to  the  best  looking  of  the  lot  to  draw 
nigh.  Then  the  Doctor  presents  the  child 
with  a  handful  of  "sweets,"  which  she  re- 
ceives in  her  right  hand  with  dignified  enthu- 
siasm, while  the  left,  after  dropping  a  pretty 
curtsey,  she  presents  to  her  benefactor, — 
somewhat  to  the  latter's  discomfiture,  for 
the  gentleman  by  no  means  takes  kindly  to 
a  dirty  paw. 

However,  these  children,  though  certainly 
brought  up  without  any  of  the  amenities  of 
life,  are  assuredly  very  good-looking.  Such 
bright  and  healthy  complexions,  such  blue 
eyes  and  flaxen  hair,  and  such  sturdy  and 
well-fed  bodies  are  all  constant  surprises 
to  us  when  we  consider  the  poverty  of 
their  surroundings.  The  girls  are  often  ex- 
ceedingly pretty,  but  they  marry  young, 
apparently  have  large  families,  and  their 

[44] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

domestic  cares,  added  to  their  full  share  of 
work  in  the  fields,  soon  show  their  effects, 
and  a  good-looking  woman  of  thirty  seems  to 
be  a  scarce  individual  throughout  this  agri- 
cultural district. 

We  had  taken  somewhat  more  than  the 
usual  time  for  dinner,  and  we  did  not  there- 
fore arrive  at  Lesjevaerk  until  quite  late  in  the 
afternoon,  our  road  having  been  an  ascending 
one  nearly  the  entire  distance.  This  little 
hamlet  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  shores  of 
Lesjeskogen-Vand,  a  picturesque  and  very 
irregular  sheet  of  water  seven  miles  in  length. 
The  log  house  or  inn  was  occupied  by  two 
young  Englishmen  who  were  tramping  and 
fishing  through  the  country,  and,  contrary  to 
our  general  experience  with  such  gentlemen, 
they  were  exceedingly  courteous  to  fellow- 
travellers. 

We  were  now  at  an  elevation  of  two  thou- 
sand feet  and  the  mountains  surrounding  us 
were  nearly  all  covered  with  snow,  while 
the  brilliant  morning  sunshine  produced  some 

[45] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


exquisite  effects  on  hill  and  dale,  the  spark- 
ling waters  of  the  lake,  in  which  there  were 
said  to  be  trout  of  large  size,  presenting  a 
very  seductive  appearance  to  a  fisherman. 
After  breakfast,  our  fellow-travellers  not  hav- 
ing appeared,  the  Rambler  decided  to  try  his 
luck  and  endeavor  to  persuade  the  trout  of 
the  marked  virtues  of  the  American  "Par- 
machene  Belle."  He  decided  that  this  scheme 
should  be  carried  out  diplomatically  so  as  to 
save  any  embarrassment,  for  there  are  two 
idiosyncrasies  —  and  only  two  —  with  which 
the  Doctor  lacks  that  patience  which  always 
becomes  the  philosopher.  One  is  the  fad  of 
fishing,  the  other  that  of  photography.  Now, 
realizing  that  his  chum  was  addicted  to  both 
these  evidences  of  a  disordered  mind,  he  might 
very  properly  have  made  unpleasant  remarks 
as  to  the  Rambler's  intellectual  deficiencies. 
But  it  is  not  the  Doctor's  way  to  hurt  any- 
body's feelings  by  unkind  remarks.  Instead 
of  this,  when  he  sees  signs  of  either  rod  or 
camera  "going  into  commission  "  he  assumes 

[46] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

a  benign  and  pitying  smile,  which,  to  his 
fellow-traveller,  is  embarrassing  in  the  ex- 
treme. To  avoid  this  condition  the  latter 
hides  both  camera  and  rod,  so  that  he  may 
sneak  off  with  them  without  the  Doctor's 
knowledge  that  high  crimes  are  about  to  be 
committed. 

The  lake  was  but  a  few  minutes'  walk  from 
the  house,  and  a  boy  having  been  secured  to 
row  the  boat  and  find  the  haunts  of  the  trout, 
we  started  out  on  our  little  expedition.  The 
morning  was  a  superb  one,  brilliantly  clear, 
with  a  sharp  breeze  blowing  and  a  tempera- 
ture of  not  over  forty-five,  so  that  warm 
clothing  seemed  eminently  in  order  in  going 
out  upon  the  lake.  Just  as  we  started,  our 
two  vigorous  British  cousins  appeared,  ap- 
parelled in  their  bath  robes,  and  casting 
them  aside,  they  plunged  into  the  icy  waters, 
with  great  apparent  satisfaction,  but  while  the 
fisherman  admired  their  energy  he  did  not 
feel  impelled  to  imitate  their  example. 

The  wind  was  so  fresh  that  casting  a  fly 

[47] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


effectively  was  not  easy,  but  we  rowed 
among  the  innumerable  islands,  many  of  them 
of  great  irregularity  and  rocky  beauty,  test- 
ing here  and  there  for  a  rise,  and  secured  a 
few  small  fish.  Indeed  while  these  were 
nothing  to  boast  of  in  the  matter  of  size  they 
possessed  admirable  fighting  qualities,  as  is 
usually  the  case  in  these  cold  waters,  and  our 
morning's  experience  was  delightful  although 
the  creel  was  somewhat  light. 

After  an  admirable  dinner  we  once  again 
got  under  way  at  three  o'clock  bound  for 
Ormeim,  twenty-five  miles  distant,  which  we 
reached  after  a  journey  of  four  hours  through 
a  continuation  of  the  delightful  road,  which 
had  been  increasing  in  boldness  and  rugged- 
ness  ever  since  we  left  Laurgaard.  This  road 
continued  to  ascend  for  about  ten  miles,  when 
we  reached  the  divide,  the  lake  itself  having 
an  outlet  at  either  end,  and  we  now  began 
our  descent  to  the  great  Romsdal  Valley. 
After  a  mile  or  two  the  river  at  our  left  had 
greatly  grown  in  speed  and  it  was  now  rush- 

[48] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

ing,  with  tremendous  and  ever-increasing 
volume,  to  its  discharge  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  valley. 

At  a  sharp  turn  in  our  downward  road  we 
had  a  superb  view  of  the  valley,  which  stretched 
out  before  us  for  two  miles  or  more,  appar- 
ently surrounded  on  three  sides  by  superb  and 
wonderfully  irregular  snow-covered  moun- 
tains, while  through  its  centre,  twisting  and 
turning  in  its  effort  to  find  the  easiest  route, 
rushed  the  mad  foaming  torrent  of  a  river, 
its  haste  for  an  outlet  being  enhanced  every 
little  distance  by  the  addition  of  innumera- 
ble streams  which  came  over  the  sides  of  the 
mountains  on  either  hand  and  fell,  in  many 
cases  from  a  great  height,  into  the  valley 
below. 

We  reached  Ormeim  at  seven  o'clock  and 
there  was  still  time  enough  for  us  to  examine 
the  surroundings  before  supper.  The  hotel  is 
situated  directly  on  the  highway,  the  valley 
at  this  point  being  very  narrow,  with  the 
mountains  rising  to  a  great  height  on  either 

4  [«] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


side.  Just  below  the  house  is  the  Rauma 
River,  rushing  through  a  rocky  and  most  pic- 
turesque gorge  of  great  boldness.  Across  the 
river  and  directly  opposite  the  hotel  is  the 
beautiful  Vaermofos  falling  several  hundred 
feet  into  the  Rauma  in  three  equidistant  and 
almost  perpendicular  streams.  A  little  to 
the  left  rises,  six  thousand  feet  high,  the  strik- 
ing peak  of  Storhaetten,  while  to  the  right 
and  down  the  valley,  one  can  see  but  a  short 
distance,  so  entirely  shut  in  is  it  by  the  tre- 
mendous walls  of  rock  which  seemed  to 
completely  bar  any  exit  in  this  direction. 
Altogether  we  voted  that  it  would  be  very 
difficult  to  improve  upon  the  wonderfully  pic- 
turesque surroundings  of  the  Ormeim  Inn. 

This  was  the  first  house  at  which  we  had 
stopped  where  we  had  met  any  guests  of  the 
superior  sex,  and  seeing  that  there  were 
several  ladies  in  the  company,  we  made 
special  efforts  "to  spruce  up"  and  improve 
upon  our  somewhat  travel-stained  appear- 
ance. The  Doctor  is  earnestly  striving  to 

[60] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

educate  his  chum  to  the  fullest  acceptance 
of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  country, 
and  therefore  upon  entering  the  dining-room, 
in  which  the  ladies  were  already  seated,  we 
endeavored  to  outdo  each  other  in  the  pro- 
fundity of  the  bows  made  before  taking  our 
places,  these  salutations  being  so  graciously 
acknowledged,  especially  by  one  charming 
young  Danish  lady,  that  the  Rambler  felt 
that  his  superior  years  justified  him  in  ex- 
pecting the  vacant  seat  next  to  her.  But  the 
Doctor  possesses  a  really  marvellous  capacity 
for  seeing  and  taking  advantage  of  whatso- 
ever the  gods  provide,  and  his  chum,  to  the 
latter's  great  chagrin,  was,  in  some  unac- 
countable manner  distinctly  "left"  upon  this 
occasion,  his  only  satisfaction  being  in  listen- 
ing to  the  animated  conversation  which  the 
Doctor  soon  entered  into  with  his  neighbor. 
We  found,  later  on,  that  the  better  class  of 
Danes  and  Norwegians  travel  through  this 
country  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  and 
they  evidently  take  as  keen  a  pleasure  in  the 

[51] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


scenery  as  do  those  who  come  from  a  greater 
distance.  The  Danes  always  appear  to  un- 
derstand a  little  English,  and  they  use  this 
with  great  heroism  and  with  the  laudable 
desire  of  cultivating  pleasant  social  relations 
with  their  fellow-travellers,  and  this  with  an 
accent  and  a  vocabulary  that  is  often  as  charm- 
ing as  it  is  odd. 

The  lady  in  question,  among  other  things, 
said:  "I  theenk  you  are  an  Aamericaan.  It 
is  always  eesy  to  tell  the  deeference  between 
the  Eenglish  and  the  Aamericaan.  The  Een- 
glish  is  so  slow  —  so  obtoose  do  you  call 
eet  ?  while  the  Aamericaan  ees  so  bright  and 
geenial."  It  was  quite  evident  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Doctor's  back,  which  was 
turned  throughout  the  entire  meal  upon  his 
chum,  that  he  was  immensely  well  pleased 
in  having  usurped  the  place  of  the  latter,  and 
that  he  was  determined  to  leave  nothing  un- 
done to  foster  this  enviable  reputation  of  his 
countrymen. 

Here  we  found  an  English  Professor  who 

[52] 


Lesjevserk  and  Ormeim 

had  secured  four  miles  of  salmon-fishing  rights 
on  the  Rauma, —  and  like  most  English  fish- 
ermen who  affect  this  country  his  creed  was, 
apparently,  to  turn  a  very  cold  shoulder  on 
any  stranger  who  might  have  the  temerity 
even  to  look  at  the  beauty  of  the  many  pools 
on  the  river.  Why  the  alleged  British  dis- 
ciples of  the  genial  Walton  should  so  gen- 
erally act  to  strangers  whom  they  may  chance 
to  meet  like  ill-mannered  boors  it  is  difficult 
to  understand,  but  we  think  that  all  those 
who  have  come  in  contact  with  these  fisher- 
men in  Norway,  will  bear  witness  to  their 
almost  universal  lack  of  those  courtesies  which 
seem  in  order,  even  though  the  stranger  may 
not  have  been  formally  introduced  and  vouched 
for.  It  would  appear  as  though  these  salmon 
fishermen,  having  leased  certain  rivers,  con- 
sider the  whole  wide  country  as  their  "  pre- 
serve "  and  they  distinctly  resent  the  intrusion 
of  any  other  visitors  whether  native  or  for- 
eign. The  Rambler  thought  (but  denied  him- 
self the  pleasure  of  mentioning  this  to  his 

[581 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


chum)  that  the  remarks  of  our  Danish  friend 
at  supper,  in  the  hearing  of  the  fisher- 
man, was  designed  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone.  There  was  certainly  one  victim,  as 
it  was  easy  to  perceive  by  the  benign  coun- 
tenance of  the  Doctor  as  he  arose  from  the 
table;  whether  the  other  bird  was  even 
wounded  may  perhaps  be  doubted,  for  he 
belonged  to  that  species  which  is  "so  ob- 
toose  "  don't  you  know. 

After  a  long  and  delightful  night's  rest  to 
the  music  of  the  rapids  under  our  window, 
than  which  to  the  writer  no  more  soothing 
sound  exists,  we  were  once  more  ready  for 
our  further  journey  down  the  valley  to  Aan- 
dalsnaes,  twenty-five  miles  distant,  all  the 
way  down  grade.  The  morning  seemed  to 
promise  showers,  but  these  light  sprinkles 
and  the  bright  sunshine  following,  alternate 
so  rapidly  in  Norway  as  to  take  away  any 
drawback  to  travel  even  in  an  open  stolk- 
jcere.  The  lights  and  shades,  the  wonder- 
ful cloud  effects,  and  the  extraordinary  manner 

[54] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

in  which  a  dark  and  forbidding  valley  may 
suddenly  be  transformed  by  the  brilliant  sun- 
light, is  fascinating  in  the  extreme,  and  one 
rejoices  that  clouds,  and  even  rain  if  must  be, 
exist  that  such  effects  can  thus  be  produced. 

We  walked  down  this  road  for  a  mile  or 
two,  leaving  our  vehicle  to  follow,  and  when 
it  caught  up  with  us  the  valley  had  widened 
out  in  a  charming  manner  at  Flatmark,  and 
after  a  short  drive  we  again  "  footed  it,"  while 
our  skud  baited  his  pony  for  twenty  min- 
utes. Then  at  the  foot  of  this  valley  we  saw 
a  narrow  opening  in  the  mountains  ahead, 
not  perceptible  until  we  were  very  near  by, 
and  through  this  our  road  passes;  and,  follow- 
ing it,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  gorge  or  a  series 
of  strikingly  rugged  gorges  which  continue 
for  five  miles  until  we  reach  the  level  country 
and  the  outlet  of  the  Raumaat  Aandalsnaes. 

But  what  a  five  miles  this  was !  The 
scenery  was  not  beautiful,  it  was  too  awe- 
inspiring,  oppressive,  almost  depressing  in  its 
grandeur.  The  Vengetinder,  the  Trcedtinder, 

[55] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


and  the  Semletind,  from  fifty-five  hundred  to 
six  thousand  feet  high,  surround  us,  the  sheer 
walls  running  in  some  places,  on  either  side 
of  the  road,  directly  above  our  heads  twenty- 
five  hundred  feet,  while  other  walls  come  so 
close  together  for  long  distances  as  to  produce 
a  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  traveller  of  being 
crushed.  Nature  indeed  seems  in  her  sternest 
and  most  forbidding  mood,  very  little  vegeta- 
tion existing  in  these  dark  gorges — and  as 
though  it  were  necessary  to  add  to  the  op- 
pression of  the  surroundings,  the  clouds  grew 
heavier  and  darker,  and  the  rain  began  to  fall. 
•  The  road  had  been  constructed  by  splendid 
engineering  skill,  and,  for  long  stretches,  it 
was  carved  out  of  the  solid  rock  as  the  only 
way  by  which  it  could  proceed,  while  below, 
now  on  the  right  and  then  on  the  left,  as  we 
crossed  the  stream  over  finely  built  cause- 
ways, ran  the  turbulent  Rauma,  which,  greatly 
confined  in  the  narrow  gorge,  had  become  a 
foaming  rushing  cataract  of  no  mean  dimen- 
sions. And  as  we  thus  travelled  on,  over  our 

[56] 


Lesjevaerk  and  Ormeim 

twisting  and  turning  road,  on  which  we  could 
never  see  for  more  than  a  few  rods  ahead, 
somewhat  oppressed,  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, by  the  sternness  of  our  surroundings, 
we  met  three  old  women,  each  with  a  heavy 
load  of  wood  on  her  back,  and  each  placidly 
and  happily  walking  in  the  rain  up  this  steep 
grade,  busily  employed  in  knitting.  Notwith- 
standing their  burdens  they  each  favored  us 
with  a  curtsey,  and  we  could  not  but  wonder 
in  looking  at  their  cheerful  countenances, 
even  though  these  indicated  a  somewhat 
hard  life,  whether  they  ever  felt  the  depress- 
ing effect  of  the  hard  and  rugged  natural 
surroundings. 

But  at  last,  not  without  a  certain  feeling 
of  relief  to  the  travellers,  the  narrow  gorge 
widens,  and  to  our  right,  apparently  directly 
over  our  heads,  is  the  wonderfully  symmetrical 
dome  of  the  Romsdal,  standing  five  thousand 
feet,  grim  sentinel  at  the  entrance  to  the 
valley,  its  peculiar  top  apparently  as  evenly 
formed  as  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  while  the 

[67] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


summits  of  its  surrounding  associates  are  of 
every  imaginable  form  of  irregularity.  A  few 
minutes  later  we  get  our  first  glimpse  of  the 
fjord,  and  as  we  do  so  we  see  our  com- 
panion of  so  many  miles,  the  turbulent 
Rauma,  tired  of  the  roaring  noisy  life  in 
which  it  has  seemed  to  be  pursued  by  some 
demon  of  the  mountain,  finally  lose  its  identity, 
and,  with  a  final  plunge,  it  sinks  for  repose 
into  the  calm  and  exquisite  surface  of  the  fjord. 
Now,  as  we  come  out  once  more  into  the 
open  there  appears  one  of  those — almost  mir- 
aculous— transformations  over  the  face  of  na- 
ture with  which  Norway  is  so  filled.  Suddenly 
the  rain  ceases,  the  clouds  open,  and  the  gor- 
geous August  sun  shines  forth  to  illuminate  the 
snow  on  the  mountain-tops  and  the  brilliant 
green  of  the  lower  valley ;  but  it  still  cannot 
reach  the  deep  black  gorge  through  which  we 
have  come  for  miles,  and  this  remains,  in  our 
memory,  as  an  extraordinarily  striking  aspect 
of  nature  in  her  most  impressive  and  forbid- 
ding mood. 

[58] 


IV 

AANDALSNjES  AND  THE    ROMSDAL 
FJORD 

WE  had  come  over  one  section  of  our 
journey,  crossing  Norway  diagonally 
from  southeast  to  northwest,  and  we  were 
now  at  tidewater  at  the  head  of  the  beautiful 
Romsdal  Fjord.  Our  stolkjcere  and  its  driver 
had  done  their  work  well  and  they  were  now 
at  the  end  of  their  route.  The  Doctor  there- 
fore settled  our  account  with  the  skud  on 
what  must  have  been  an  eminently  satisfac- 
tory basis  for  the  latter,  for  he  was  profuse  in 
his  handshake,  the  universal  national  method 
of  expressing  appreciation.  The  Doctor's  face 
as  they  parted  company  showed  that  he  felt 
guilty  of  too  much  liberality  with  our  Jehu, 
and  this  he  considers  an  extremely  immoral 
proceeding  upon  the  part  of  the  traveller. 
It  is  more  than  likely  therefore  that  the  law 

[59] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


of  averages  will  be  applied  in  the  future  and 
if  so  our  next  driver  may  thus  have  his  pour- 
boire  injuriously  affected. 

The  hotel  at  Aandalsnaes  is  charmingly 
situated.  It  stands  on  quite  an  elevation 
immediately  looking  down  upon  the  broad 
stretch  of  the  fjord;  on  the  left  the  view  up 
the  Romsdal  Valley  and  to  the  Horn  is  strik- 
ing in  the  extreme,  while  at  the  rear  of  the 
hotel  rises  the  grand  peaks  of  the  Troldstole 
and  the  Blaatind.  The  settlement  itself  is 
but  a  tiny  one,  just  sufficient  to  justify  the 
little  steamer  stopping  on  its  way  to  Molde. 

But  the  weather  this  Sunday  afternoon  was 
not  treating  us  with  its  usual  consideration, 
the  rain  coming  down  with  no  little  emphasis. 
Nevertheless,  after  dinner,  a  walk  was  con- 
sidered eminently  in  order  before  our  steamer 
started  at  seven  o'clock,  so,  donning  our 
rubber  coats,  we  took  our  way  along  the  usual 
well  built  road  at  the  edge  of  the  fjord. 

We  thus  walked  several  miles,  not  without 
that  feeling  of  satisfaction  which  comes  to 

[60] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


the  pedestrian  in  a  rainstorm  when  he  is 
properly  dressed  for  the  occasion.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  this  arm  of  the  fjord,  along 
which  we  were  tramping,  stretched  a  few 
attractive  little  farmhouses  with  their  grass- 
grown  roofs,  while  back  of  the  fields,  which 
ran  to  the  water's  edge,  stood  a  range  of 
high  mountains  of  singularly  irregular  con- 
tour. So  low  were  the  clouds  that  these 
mountain-tops  would  sometimes  be  shut  in 
and  again  clearly  outlined  against  the  dull 
sky. 

Suddenly  about  six  o'clock,  as  we  watched, 
an  exceptionally  heavy  cloud  closed  in  upon 
the  range,  the  sun  burst  forth  at  our  backs, 
the  clouds  lifted,  and  we  saw  that  in  those 
few  minutes  they  had  covered  the  mountain- 
tops  with  a  new  fall  of  snow  which  now 
sparkled  in  the  sunshine  with  extraordinary 
brilliancy.  All  the  opposite  shore  was  sud- 
denly transformed  by  this  brightness,  and 
while  to  our  right  appeared  a  rainbow  of 
marvellous  color  set  against  a  dark  back- 

[61] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


ground  of  evergreens,  in  the  immediate  fore- 
ground was  the  exquisitely  colored  water  of 
the  fjord,  suddenly  illuminated  in  a  most 
striking  manner  by  the  rays  of  the  sinking 
sun.  The  scene  was  one  not  easily  forgotten, 
and  in  our  whole  trip  it  is  doubtful  whether 
any  more  remarkable  picture  was  vouchsafed 
to  us. 

But  the  jolly  little  steamer  was  lying  at  the 
wharf  ready  to  start  for  Molde,  and  it  was 
time  that  we,  and  our  belongings,  were  on 
board.  Now  these  fjord  boats  are  one  of 
the  "institutions"  of  the  country  —  if  one 
may  borrow  an  Americanism.  Extremely 
substantially  built,  after  the  general  model  of 
an  ocean  steamer,  of  from  two  hundred  to 
four  hundred  tons  burden,  the  after  part  is 
devoted  to  the  cabin  passengers,  while  the 
second-class  travellers  are  assigned  to  the 
forward  deck.  For  the  comfort  of  the  former 
there  is  provided  a  capital  salon  on  the  lower 
deck,  and  usually  a  number  of  comfortable 
staterooms,  while  upon  the  main  deck  is 

[62] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


arranged  a  room  specially  devoted  to  damen 
and  also  a  comfortable  smoking  apartment, 
while  above  these  again,  in  a  charming  po- 
sition to  view  the  scenery,  are  placed  tables 
and  easy  chairs  in  which  one  may  enjoy, 
without  hindrance,  and  in  a  leisurely  manner, 
the  delightful  combination  of  coffee,  cigars, 
and  some  of  the  finest  scenic  effects  in  the 
world.  It  is  not  however  in  the  construc- 
tion of  the  boats  alone  that  "  the  powers  that 
be  "  have  shown  so  much  judgment  and  con- 
sideration for  travellers,  for  the  treatment  of 
the  latter  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  en- 
vironment. With  meals  whose  character  and 
service,  as  compared  with  similar  conditions 
in  America,  are  usually  extraordinarily  good, 
with  phenomenal  cleanliness  everywhere,  in- 
cluding the  freshest  of  linen  in  the  rooms  and 
upon  the  tables,  which  are  usually  decorated 
day  by  day  with  attractive  fresh  flowers,  and 
last,  but  by  no  means  least,  with  every  of- 
ficial on  board,  from  the  captain  to  the  least 
member  of  the  crew,  apparently  impressed 

[68] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


with  the  desire  that  every  passenger  should 
enjoy  himself,  it  would  indeed  be  strange 
if  the  appreciative  traveller  failed  to  feel  a 
marked  satisfaction  in  his  surroundings. 

And  indeed  of  the  dignified  and  self-respect- 
ing courtesy  and  kindness  which  the  stranger 
receives  from  all  those  with  whom  he  comes 
in  contact  in  this  favored  land  it  is  impossible 
to  speak  in  terms  too  high.  The  officials 
and  the  people  whom  one  meets  in  village 
or  country  show  to  all  strangers  a  courtesy 
and  an  anxiety  to  do  all  in  their  power  for 
the  welfare  of  the  traveller,  and  this  from 
absolute  good  nature  and  gentleness,  and  with- 
out the  slightest  taint  of  a  mercenary  mo- 
tive—  a  hospitality  in  will  and  deed  which  is 
one  of  the  marked  characteristics  of  Norway, 
adding  immensely  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
visitor. 

Another  aspect  of  travelling  which  struck 
us  in  our  first  steamer  experience,  and  which 
was  more  and  more  impressed  upon  us  as 
we  journeyed  on,  was  the  extraordinarily 

[64] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


quiet,  dignified,  and  systematic  manner  in 
which  all  undue  noise  and  excitement  is  elim- 
inated from  this  mode  of  travel,  or  indeed 
from  any  journeying  through  Norsk  land. 
The  boat  was  scheduled  to  start  at  seven 
o'clock  and  one  minute  before  this  time  the 
little  bell  was  struck  slowly  three  times,  and 
then  jangled  for  a  few  moments.  Then, 
without  an  order  being  given  above  an  ordi- 
nary tone,  and  precisely  at  the  hour  named, 
the  hawsers  were  cast  off  and,  with  a  courte- 
ous and  never-omitted  hat-lifting  from  deck 
and  wharf,  we  glided  quietly  away.  This 
absence  of  fuss  and  of  excitement  may  per- 
haps seem  as  a  trifling  matter.  But  it  is 
really  not  so.  To  those  weary  of  the  end- 
less turmoil  of  our  more  nervous  existence, 
tired  of  noise,  of  loud  and  emphatic  orders 
and  of  the  general  "rush"  to  all  things  in 
American  travel,  there  is  a  sincere  pleasure  in 
the  deep  restfulness  of  the  methods  of  these 
people.  One  cannot  but  feel  in  examining 
what  they  have  accomplished  under  adverse 

5  [66] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


circumstances,  that  they  really  "get  there" 
quite  as  effectively  as  those  nationalities  whose 
every  action  is  accompanied  by  noise  and 
excitement. 

This  interesting  peculiarity  does  not  belong 
exclusively  to  travel  by  water.  When  the 
stranger  reaches  a  landing-place,  where  the 
steamer  is  made  fast  with  the  same  lack  of 
loud  orders  as  in  starting,  there  may  be  three 
or  four  porters  standing  on  the  wharf  in  the 
interest  of  rival  hotels.  While  the  rivalry  is, 
doubtless,  quite  as  keen  here  as  in  New  York 
for  the  "shekels,"  not  one  of  these  men  ever 
calls  out,  raises  his  hand,  or  even  addresses 
a  passenger  until  spoken  to.  They  simply 
stand  in  dignified  silence  until  the  visitor 
makes  his  selection,  and  then  the  favored 
porter  takes  off  his  hat  with  the  utmost  po- 
liteness, assumes  charge  of  the  passenger's 
belongings,  and,  with  an  absolutely  dignified 
hospitality,  strives  to  do  everything  in  his 
power  for  the  pleasure  and  the  comfort  of 
the  guest.  It  is  not  that  the  rivals  do  not 

[66] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


want  business,  but  that,  according  to  the 
Norsk  standard,  it  is  not  "  good  form  "  to  be- 
come excited  or  to  be  officiously  grasping  in 
accomplishing  their  ends.  One  cannot  but 
compare  these  methods  with  the  "Keb,  ker- 
ridge, —  keb,  keb "  at  the  Grand  Central 
Station,  and  the  comparison  does  not  im- 
press the  New  Yorker  with  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm. 

Immediately  after  starting  we  had  an  ex- 
cellent and  well  served  supper,  and  then  we 
went  upon  the  upper  deck  to  enjoy  our 
cigars  and  the  view.  And  what  an  evening 
it  proved  to  be  after  the  rain!  We  steamed 
out  of  the  fjord  to  the  northwest  and  the 
high  shore  on  our  left  was  soon  shrouded  in 
deep  shadow.  On  the  right,  however,  and 
behind  us,  rose  a  chain  of  mountains  of  very 
diversified  form,  many  of  the  tops  being 
covered  with  freshly  fallen  snow,  and  on  this 
the  sun  shone  with  a  wonderful  brilliancy, 
tinting  their  outlines  an  exquisite  pink  against 
a  deep  blue  sky.  Farther  down,  where  the 

[67] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


pines  and  fir  made  a  darker  background,  this 
light  turned  to  an  extraordinary  and  beautiful 
purple,  while  the  water  of  the  fjord  between 
us  and  the  shore  sparkled  a  most  brilliant 
blue-green  of  a  wonderful  shade  which  we 
understand  is  met  with  nowhere  else  except 
in  these  fjords. 

The  daylight  lasted  until  after  nine  o'clock 
and  the  evening  was  so  mild  that  we  could 
sit  on  deck  and  enjoy  every  minute  of  the 
time  while  the  little  steamer  made  her  two 
stops  before  striking  across  to  Molde  at  the 
entrance  to  the  fjord.  Just  as  it  became  too 
dark  to  see  ahead  for  any  considerable  dis- 
tance, we  rounded  a  point  and  the  lights  of 
the  little  village  twinkled  out  ahead  of  us,  and 
at  ten  o'clock  we  were  at  the  dock  and  start- 
ing to  go  ashore. 

Now  there  were  three  ladies  on  board  with 
their  escort,  and  this  party  was  bound  for  the 
same  hotel  as  ourselves.  A  porter  from  the 
house  presented  himself,  or  rather  we  ven- 
tured to  introduce  ourselves  to  him,  but  he 

[68] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


could  produce  but  one  carriage  and  of  course 
the  Doctor,  true  to  his  colors,  had  placed  the 
ladies  in  this  carriage,  assuring  them  with 
much  emphasis  that  "  we  "  preferred  to  walk 
— in  which  he  took  the  liberty  of  a  literary 
mind  by  talking  in  the  editorial  sense.  "  Come 
on,  chum,"  he  exclaimed  in  that  philosophical 
and  cheerful  manner  for  which  the  learned 
gentleman  is  so  well  noted,  "come  on,  I 
know  the  way  and  it  isn't  very  far."  His 
companion  caught  a  slight  accent  on  the 
"  very,"  and  he  was  moved  to  give  vent  to  a 
piece  of  his  mind  at  being  forced  to  walk 
through  an  unknown  settlement  out  into  the 
country  at  this  time  of  night.  But,  happily, 
he  restrained  his  impetuosity,  and  we  started, 
the  Doctor  leading,  and  the  Rambler  mildly 
following,  but  with  wrath  in  his  heart.  We 
walked  through  phenomenally  crooked  streets 
which  frequently  proved  nothing  but  cuts  de 
sac,  now  up  hill,  then  down,  but  always 
in  the  slimiest  of  mud,  and  after  half  an  hour 
of  this  it  began  to  be  more  and  more  certain 

[69] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


that  the  guide,  counsellor,  and  friend  of  the 
expedition  had  entirely  lost  his  bearings,  if 
he  ever  had  them,  while  every  inhabitant  of 
the  town  was  evidently  fast  asleep.  To  add 
insult  to  injury,  when  we  had  thus  been  wan- 
dering until,  to  the  Rambler,  it  seemed  as 
though  daylight  must  soon  appear  and  help 
us  out  of  our  difficulties,  and  when  said  Ram- 
bler, fearful  of  overdoing  the  matter  if  he 
should  venture  to  speak,  therefore  held  his 
tongue  in  check  by  counting  one  hundred 
over  and  over  again  as  he  had  been  taught 
to  do  in  Sunday  School, — when,  under  these 
conditions,  the  Doctor,  in  that  cheerful  but  ad- 
monitory voice  of  his,  said  in  the  distance, 
"  Educate  yourself  not  to  worry.  Take  things 
easy,"  then  his  fellow-traveller  felt  that  his  cup 
was  full  and  overflowing  and  he  had  murder 
in  his  heart,  which  would  have  been  put  into 
instant  execution  had  the  author  of  all  this 
trouble  been  within  reach.  Eventually,  and 
after  we  had  gone  through  every  street  of  the 
village,  which  rests  upon  a  side  hill  at  an 

[70] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  the  Doctor  quietly 
exclaimed:  "Why,  here's  the  hotel,  just 
where  I  said  it  was."  Its  lights  were  wel- 
come for  we  had  done  what  seemed  to  us  our 
full  limit  of  tramping  in  the  mud  and  envel- 
oped in  pitchy  darkness. 

The  hotel  at  Molde  is  a  more  pretentious 
affair  than  any  we  had  so  far  found  and  it 
is  designed  to  accommodate  the  considerable 
crowd  of  tourists  which,  in  the  season,  fre- 
quents this  coast  resort.  Happily  for  us,  the 
season  was  practically  over  and  we  thus  had 
an  ample  choice  of  comfortable  rooms. 

We  were  favored  the  next  day  by  another 
morning  of  exquisite  sunshine,  bright,  clear, 
and  cool,  and  we  were  delighted  with  the 
little  town  of  Molde,  and  with  its  charming 
situation.  The  settlement  stands  upon  a  side 
hill  directly  facing  the  fjord,  and,  upon  an 
elevation  above  and  to  the  north  of  the  town, 
is  placed  the  hotel,  the  windows  and  balco- 
nies of  which  command  a  superb  view  over 
the  settlement  and  out  to  sea,  through  many 

[71] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


islands  on  the  west,  while  to  the  east  lies  the 
Fane  Fjord,  a  few  miles  wide  at  this  point- 
On  the  other  side  ot  this  stretches  a  fine  range 
of  snow-covered  mountains  of  very  striking 
form,  while  just  below  us  is  the  brilliantly 
sparkling  water  of  the  fjord. 

Molde  is  said  to  offer  to  visitors  one  of 
the  most  salubrious  climates  in  all  Norway, 
and  the  vegetation,  even  at  this  late  season, 
proved  extremely  attractive.  It  is  the  highest 
point  to  the  north  where  fruit  ripens,  and  we 
saw  evidences  of  this  in  the  many  apple  and 
pear  trees  in  full  fruit.  One  little  house  at  the 
southern  end  of  the  town  presented  indeed  a 
remarkable  appearance,  being  literally  cov- 
ered, on  its  sunny  side,  by  a  superb  pear  tree 
carefully  trained  over  the  wall,  this  tree  reach- 
ing quite  to  the  roof  and  absolutely  loaded 
with  fine  pears  not  yet  quite  ripe.  The  season 
is  here  naturally  very  short,  the  latitude  being 
about  sixty-three  degrees  north,  and  there  is, 
therefore,  an  odd  uniformity  in  the  time  of 
ripening  of  the  fruits,  the  most  magnificent 

[72J 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


strawbc.  ries  and  cherries  being  found  at  the 
same  time  as  that  in  which  the  pears  and 
apples  are  almost  fit  to  gather. 

The  flowers  were  also  particularly  profuse 
and  brilliant  in  coloring,  the  roses  being 
especially  fine  and  of  a  size  and  beauty  rarely, 
if  ever,  seen  in  our  dry  American  climate,  ex- 
cept under  glass. 

The  walk  through  the  village,  and  along  the 
fjord,  either  to  the  east  or  west,  is  charming 
in  the  extreme,  the  road  being  lined  with  fine 
rows  of  ash,  maple  and  birch,  and  many  of 
these  are  of  large  size.  But  in  this  walk  we 
were,  for  the  first  time,  made  aware  of  a  dis- 
ease which  appears  as  a  great  scourge  even  in 
this  apparently  much  favored  climate;  for  we 
passed  the  fine  building  of  Reknes,  a  govern- 
ment institution  for  the  care  of  consumptives. 
Another  similar  sanitarium  stands  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  fjord,  the  air  of  Molde,  both 
for  plants  and  invalids,  being  considered  es- 
pecially favorable.  We  learn  that  this  dread- 
ful disease  is  very  prevalent  throughout  this 

[78] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


country,  especially  among  the  poorer  classes, 
and  its  spread  is  due  in  no  small  measure  to  the 
absence  of  all  sanitary  precautions  upon  the 
part  of  the  peasants,  and  the  air-tight  condition 
in  which  they  strive  to  keep  their  houses  dur- 
ing the  long  winter  months.  Much  commend- 
able energy  is  shown  by  the  government  in 
its  attempt  to  inculcate  a  better  appreciation 
of  sanitary  laws,  but  ignorance  and  conserva- 
tism are  doubtless  hard  to  overcome,  and  the 
government  has  established  these  sanitaria, 
in  carefully  selected  locations,  where  the  poor 
invalids  may  receive  the  best  treatment  pro- 
vided by  modern  science. 

The  building  in  question  is  a  fine  one,  sur- 
rounded by  many  wide  piazzas  protected  by 
movable  sash,  and  in  these  the  patients  may 
have  the  benefit  of  air  and  sunshine;  while 
much  taste  has  been  exercised  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  pleasant  grounds  filled  with  tents, 
pavilions,  large  trees,  and  bright  flowers. 
Truly  the  government  of  Norway,  with  its 
very  limited  exchequer,  has  shown  extraor- 

[74] 


The  Romsdal  Fjord 


dinary  enterprise  in  this  matter,  and  its  work 
may  stand  very  favorable  comparison  with 
that  attempted  by  richer  and  more  prosperous 
nations. 


V 

MOLDE  TO  MEROK 

WE  left  the  delightfully  situated  Molde 
with  regret,  for  it  is  certainly  the 
brightest  and  most  cheery  spot  we  have  thus 
far  found  in  Norway,  and  we  steamed  away 
in  the  early  afternoon  for  Vestnaes  across  the 
fjord.  If  we  regretted  our  forced  departure, 
this  feeling  was  but  enhanced  as  our  little  craft 
got  well  under  way  and  out  into  the  fjord,  for 
we  then  realized,  even  more  fully,  the  charm- 
ing situation  and  environment  of  this  little 
settlement,  snugly  nestling  on  the  hillside 
amid  its  rich  growth  of  trees,  shrubs,  and 
flowers,  and  with  its  face  to  the  south  to  se- 
cure every  available  ray  of  the  short  winter 
sunshine.  It  was  but  a  run  of  an  hour  and  a 
half  by  the  capital  little  steamer  across  the 
Molde  fjord  to  Vestnses,  and  we  found  this 
time  very  brief  in  our  enjoyment  of  the  sur- 

[76] 


Molde  to  Merok 


roundings,  the  afternoon  being  a  glorious  one. 
Very  silently  we  ran  up  to  the  little  dock  at 
Vestnaes  which  juts  out  into  the  fjord  at  the 
foot  of  a  long  hill,  no  houses  or  humans  be- 
ing visible  in  any  direction.  Our  belongings 
were  put  ashore,  the  kindly  captain  of  the 
steamer  assuring  us  that  somebody  would, 
very  shortly,  appear  to  further  us  on  our  jour- 
ney. We  have  no  doubt  that,  had  the  sug- 
gestion been  made  to  him,  he  would  have 
been  quite  ready  to  delay  his  departure  until 
entirely  assured  of  our  safety  and  comfort. 

Now  the  Doctor  is  deeply  opposed  both  by 
constitution  and  by-laws  to  haste  and  bustle 
of  any  description,  and  he  possesses  a  deep- 
seated  contempt  for  the  habits  of  those  de- 
praved Americans  who  want  "to  get  there." 
Nevertheless,  it  was  growing  late  in  the  after- 
noon and  we  had  eighteen  miles  to  travel,  the 
first  portion  up  to  a  considerable  elevation;  so 
it  was  decided  that  the  financial  member  of 
the  party  should  mount  the  hill,  find  the  "  sta- 
tion," and  send  down  a  stolkjcere  for  our 

[77] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


luggage,  which  latter,  in  the  meantime,  his 
chum  would  "stand  by  "  to  protect  with  his 
last  breath,  lest  some  of  the  old  gray  crows 
in  the  vicinity  might  be  tempted  to  carry  it  off. 

This  general  plan  of  campaign  entirely  fitted 
in  with  the  views  of  the  Rambler,  who  was 
prepared  to  do  or  die  rather  than  permit  any 
harm  to  come  to  the  disreputable  looking 
"hold  all"  at  his  feet.  So  he  lighted  his 
pipe,  and,  stretched  out  upon  a  delightfully 
soft  grassy  bank,  he  felt  a  full  sympathy  for 
Weary  Willie,  and  congratulated  himself  that 
his  official  duties  were  not  so  onerous  as  to 
prevent  a  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  scene 
spread  out  before  him. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  quiet  afternoon,  the 
surface  of  the  fjord  being  absolutely  without 
a  ripple  at  this  point,  but  overhead  there  was 
a  breeze,  for  occasional  light  and  fleecy  clouds 
passed  before  the  sun  and  their  shadows 
chased  each  other  over  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tains opposite.  No  sound  could  be  heard  in 
any  direction,  except  that  of  the  ever-lessen- 

[78] 


Molde  to  Merok 


ing  one  of  the  propellers  of  the  steamer,  now 
fast  disappearing  at  the  upper  end  of  the  fjord. 
Yes,  there  was  one  indication  of  animal  life, 
for  afar  off  came  the  lazy  "caw-caw"  of 
a  crow  which  seemed  to  fit  in  well  with  the 
surroundings. 

But  the  extraordinary  silence  which  is  so 
nearly  universal  in  travelling  in  Norway  is 
one  of  the  marked,  and  often  not  altogether 
attractive,  features  of  the  country.  To  those 
accustomed,  in  their  rambles,  to  meet  with 
animal  and  bird  life,  there  is  indeed  a  feeling 
of  loneliness  in  the  almost  total  absence  of 
such  in  Norway.  No  robins  or  other  road- 
side birds,  no  squirrels  or  chipmunks,  not 
even  a  cricket,  a  toad,  or  a  snake,  did  we 
see  in  our  entire  journey,  for  the  country, 
certainly  at  this  season  of  the  year,  is  sadly 
deficient  in  these  little  inhabitants. 

It  is  not  alone,  however,  the  absence  of 
ordinary  wild  life  which  so  impresses  one 
accustomed  to  tramp  on  American  country 
roads;  it  is,  indeed,  quite  as  much  the  ex- 

[79] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


treme  scarcity  of  the  ordinary  domestic  ani- 
mals. Dogs  are  very  few  and  far  between, 
and  the  traveller  finds,  somewhat  to  his  sur- 
prise, that  he  really  misses  what,  in  our  land, 
is  not  infrequently  decidedly  more  of  a  pest 
than  a  pleasure  to  the  passer-by.  Here  a 
cat  is  a  rarity,  and  the  scarcity  of  both  canine 
and  feline  is  simply  that  nature  forces  these 
poor  people  to  be  economical,  and  while  both 
dogs  and  cats  may  perhaps  be  ornamental, 
they  can  neither  be  considered  as  necessities, 
and  any  extra  demand  upon  the  larder,  es- 
pecially in  the  winter  months,  is  a  serious 
matter.  So  also  are  pigs  and  poultry  but 
little  seen  in  going  over  these  roads,  and  one 
really  misses  the  occasional  contented  grunt 
of  the  former  and  still  more  the  challenging 
crow  of  the  rooster  which  is  so  generally  to 
be  heard  in  the  rural  districts  throughout 
America. 

But  while  the  Rambler  was  enjoying  his 
pipe,  his  superficial  meditations,  and  the  ever- 
changing  picture  over  the  fjord,  the  stolhjcere 

[80] 


Molde  to  Merok 


had  come  down  the  hill  at  full  gait,  being 
presided  over,  this  time,  by  a  young  lad, 
who  was  now  finding  no  little  difficulty  in 
his  efforts  to  stow  our  luggage,  which  indeed 
seemed  like  endeavoring  to  put  a  quart  into 
a  pint  bottle.  It  was  quite  evident,  much  as 
the  Rambler  disliked  to  change  his  dolce  far 
niente  position  for  one  of  active  labor,  that 
some  assistance  must  be  given  to  the  skud  if 
we  wished  to  get  to  our  destination  before 
dark.  Our  efforts  were  eventually  crowned 
with  success  and  we  started  up  the  hill  again. 
But  not,  for  the  present,  was  riding  to  be 
indulged  in,  for  there  was  a  long  stretch  of 
up  grade  to  be  climbed,  and  over  this  it  is, 
by  a  strict  regulation  of  the  "  powers  that  be  " 
in  Norway,  incumbent  upon  the  passenger 
to  walk.  And  that  there  may  be  no  per- 
adventure  about  this  there  is  placed  at  the 
bottom  of  every  long  hill  a  sign,  which  tells 
the  weary  traveller,  with  great  distinctness 
and  in  four  languages,  that  he  is  expected  to 
"foot  it"  and  thus  relieve  the  overburdened 

6  [81] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


horse  of  a  portion  of  his  load.  It  is  a  remark- 
able tribute  to  the  intelligence  and  the  educa- 
tion of  the  latter  that  any  one  of  the  languages 
used  seems  to  be  familiar  to  him,  and  when 
he  reads  one  of  these  signs  he  invariably  stops 
short,  and  no  amount  of  persuasion  or  urg- 
ing can  make  him  proceed  on  his  way  until 
his  passengers  have  alighted.  It  is  said — and 
we  are  quite  ready  to  believe  everything  of 
the  intelligent  Norwegian  pony — that  if  he 
has  as  a  passenger  a  member  of  the  superior 
sex,  he  will,  sometimes,  gallantly  consent  to 
pull  her  up  the  hill,  but  not  without  express- 
ing a  full  measure  of  protest  in  a  peculiar 
grunt  or  groan  to  which  these  beasts  are 
addicted  when  things  fail  to  please  them.  But 
we  have  the  strongest  doubts  whether  any 
power  could  persuade  a  Norsk  pony  to  pull 
a  mere  man  up  a  long  ascent. 

The  Doctor,  having  despatched  our  vehicle 
down  the  hill,  had  started  ahead  upon  his  long 
climb,  and  we  did  not  overtake  him  for  sev- 
eral miles.  While  the  elevation  over  which 

[88] 


Molde  to  Merok 


we  were  bound  was  not  great,  it  is  never- 
theless true  that  we  were  compelled  to  walk 
nearly  the  entire  six  miles  until  we  reached 
the  summit.  There  we  found  a  long  plateau, 
extending  several  miles,  barren  of  trees  and 
of  all  but  the  most  meagre  vegetation,  cov- 
ered as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  with  boul- 
ders of  every  conceivable  size,  and  surrounded 
by  high  mountains,  many  of  them  showing 
snow-capped  tops.  The  outlook  was  ex- 
tremely dreary,  lonely,  and  forbidding,  and  it 
affected  us  with  special  emphasis  because  we 
had  just  come  out  of  such  a  charming  and 
quite  luxurious  little  valley  at  the  edge  of 
the  fjord.  To  add  a  further  touch  to  the  sur- 
roundings, it  now  began  to  rain  and  the  wind 
to  blow,  cold  and  cutting,  and  we  were  glad 
enough  to  walk  in  order  to  keep  warm. 
There  was  but  one  habitation  to  be  seen,  and 
as  we  approached  this  we  were  both  im- 
pressed and  pleased  to  find  it  a  tiny  refresh- 
ment inn  standing  all  by  itself  in  this  desolate 
country.  This  was  the  proper  place  for  the 

[83] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


afternoon  "baiting"  of  twenty  minutes,  and 
while  the  passengers  went  inside  and  indulged 
in  some  excellent  beer  and  crackers,  our  pony 
stuck  his  head  into  his  bag  of  oats  with  a  grunt 
of  great  satisfaction.  The  little  hut  in  which 
we  indulged  in  our  mild  refreshment  was  ex- 
tremely neat  and  clean,  and  the  damsel  who 
waited  upon  us,  a  fair  and  attractive  Scandi- 
navian maiden;  but  even  the  satisfaction  of 
reviving  the  spirits  of  weary  humanity  by 
supplying  "cakes  and  ale "  must  be  a  doubt- 
ful compensation  for  being  compelled  to  live 
among  such  dreary  surroundings  as  those  of 
the  Orskogsfjeldet.  The  road  stretches  over 
this  treeless  and  rocky  fjeld  for  several  miles 
and  throughout  this  length  the  eye  can  easily 
follow  its  course  so  straight  is  it,  and  this  is 
the  only  instance  in  our  journeyings  in  which 
we  encountered  a  piece  of  road  of  this  char- 
acter. On  one  side  of  this  highway  long  poles 
are  set  up  at  regular  distances  to  guide  the 
traveller  through  the  winter's  snow. 

A  couple  of  miles  beyond  the  little  refresh- 
es] 


Molde  to  Merok 


ment  hut  our  road  began  to  descend,  and 
from  this  point  to  our  arrival  at  Soholtat  eight 
o'clock,  we  travelled  at  so  rapid  a  pace  that, 
in  the  innumerable  sharp  twists  and  turns  in 
the  road,  we  could  not  help  speculating  as  to 
the  consequences  if  we  should  meet  a  team 
coming  in  the  opposite  direction  in  this  nar- 
row highway.  It  seemed  exceedingly  probable 
that  one  or  both  loads  of  passengers  would 
be  rapidly  deposited  in  the  turbulent  river  a 
couple  of  hundred  feet  below  us.  But  no 
such  catastrophe  occurred,  and  we  arrived  at 
our  destination  to  find  a  capital  hotel  and  a 
supper  to  which  we  were  prepared  to  do  the 
fullest  possible  justice. 

We  found  our  host  here  an  intelligent  na- 
tive who  spoke  feelingly  of  the  number  of  his 
countrymen  who  had  emigrated  to  America, 
and  especially  to  Minnesota.  He  said  that 
while  many  of  these  were  prosperous,  the  cli- 
mate did  not  seem  to  be  altogether  satisfac- 
tory to  natives  of  Norway,  and  many  of  them 
returned  as  invalids.  His  only  explanation  of 

[85] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


this  was  that  the  Norwegians  tried  to  live  out 
West  during  the  hot  summer  months  clothed 
in  the  heavy  garments  they  were  accustomed 
to  use  at  home,  and  that  this  had  a  very  bad 
effect  upon  their  health.  He  further  men- 
tioned one  instance,  coming  under  his  per- 
sonal knowledge,  of  the  absurd  workings  of 
one  of  our  immigration  laws.  It  appears  that 
three  able  Norwegian  carpenters,  whom  he 
knew,  arrived  in  New  York  considering  them- 
selves as  particularly  fortunate  in  being  prom- 
ised positions  in  the  West,  and  when  they 
were  asked  by  the  immigration  official  whether 
they  had  made  any  arrangements  for  work, 
they,  not  unnaturally,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 
Such  a  condition  being  contrary  to  the  ridic- 
ulous provisions  of  the  "contract  labor  law," 
these  efficient  men  were  promptly  deported. 
Had  they  belonged  to  the  races  of  middle  Eu- 
rope, with  perhaps  a  trifle  in  their  pockets  for 
immediate  use,  but  without  any  trade  or  visible 
means  of  support,  they  would  have  been  re- 
ceived without  question,  even  though  there 

[86] 


Molde  to  Merok 


might  be  every  prospect  that  in  a  short  time 
they  would  become  paupers.  Such  is  one  of 
the  beneficent  laws  which  we  owe  to  the  su- 
preme wisdom  of  labor  agitators. 


[87] 


VI 
THE  GEIRANGER  FJORD 

ANOTHER  superb  morning  greeted  us  as 
we  prepared  to  take  the  steamer  for  a 
ten-hour  run  through  the  Nord  and  Geiranger 
Fjords  to  Merok,  our  next  stopping  place. 
After  breakfast  we  went  on  board  a  delight- 
fully comfortable  little  steamer  on  which  we 
found  but  eight  or  ten  first-class  passengers, 
leaving  us  ample  room  for  a  day  which  we 
had  looked  forward  to  with  lively  anticipation. 

Every  minute  of  the  ten  hours  spent  on 
board  this  steamer  was  filled  with  an  enjoy- 
ment as  delightful  as  it  is  difficult  to  describe. 

The  Nord  Fjord  was  our  first  experience 
of  one  of  these  wonderful  waterways  which 
have  made  Norway  famous,  and  we  soon 
realized  that  our  expectations  had  been  far 
short  of  the  reality.  Entering,  almost  at  once 
upon  our  departure  from  Soholt,  into  scenery 

[88] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


of  extraordinary  boldness  and  interest,  we 
found  the  shores,  hour  by  hour,  ever  increas- 
ing in  the  height  and  striking  irregularity  of 
the  mountains,  until  we  reached,  as  the  eve- 
ning shadows  lengthened,  the  Geiranger  at 
the  head  of  the  fjord,  and  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  scenery  so  wonderful  in  its 
grandeur  as  to  render  any  adequate  descrip- 
tion impossible. 

It  is  frequently  asked  if  the  scenery  of  Nor- 
way compares  favorably  with  that  of  Swit- 
zerland. Edward  Spender  has  well  spoken  of 
the  difficulty  of  making  comparisons  in  this 
matter  between  the  two  countries,  and  it 
may  perhaps  be  worth  while  to  quote  his 
words.  He  says:  "There  are  fine  mountains 
in  Switzerland,  but  there  is  nowhere  else 
in  the  world  such  a  combination  of  mountain 
and  ocean  as  in  Norway;  nowhere  else  in 
Europe  does  the  snow-clad  peak  rise  directly 
out  of  the  sea;  nowhere  else  will  the  traveller 
find  that  most  distinguishing  feature  of  Nor- 
way, the  Fjord,  guarded  at  its  entrance  by 

[89] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


a  breakwater  of  islands;  winding  inland 
through  forest-clad  hills  where  the  silver 
birch  gleams  amidst  the  sombre  pines,  and 
at  whose  feet  lie  the  greenest  of  green  pas- 
tures, dotted  with  quaint  houses;  forcing  its 
way  still  farther  through  the  ever-narrowing 
gorges,  down  whose  sides  plunge,  at  one 
leap,  countless  torrents  fed  from  the  great 
ice-fields  overhead.  Nowhere  else  in  Europe 
is  there  such  a  country  of  waterfalls  as  this, 
cataracts  of  tremendous  volume  and  force,  far 
away  up  among  the  mountains,  requiring 
perhaps  a  whole  day's  journey  to  reach  them. 
Above  all,  nowhere  are  there  such  sunsets 
as  in  the  country  of  which  we  are  speaking. 
The  memory  of  one  night  in  Norway  makes 
one  feel  how  powerless  language  is  to  de- 
scribe the  splendor  of  that  evening  glory  of 
carmine  and  orange  and  indigo,  which  floods, 
not  only  the  heavens,  but  the  sea,  and  makes 
the  waves  beneath  our  keel  a  flash  of  living 
fire.  Language  cannot  paint  that  wonderful 
mystic  light,  so  exquisitely  soft  and  tender, 

[90] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


which  travels  around  the  northern  horizon 
from  west  to  east,  so  that  one  cannot  tell 
when  night  ends  or  day  begins." 

The  statement  in  feet  of  the  height  of  the 
mountains  does  not  convey  at  all  an  apprecia- 
tion of  their  effects  if  one  thinks  of  their  size  in 
comparison  with  many  of  the  great  mountains 
of  the  world.  But  it  must  be  remembered 
that  most  of  these  latter  are  situated  far  in- 
land and  are  themselves  viewed  from  an 
elevation  often  considerable.  The  marked 
characteristic  of  this  Norway  scenery  is  that 
the  traveller  stands  at  sea  level  and  looks 
up,  four  or  five  thousand  feet,  to  the  top  of 
mountain  after  mountain  rising  often  from 
the  fjord  a  sheer  wall  a  thousand  feet  in 
height.  The  extreme  irregularity  and  bold- 
ness of  the  skyline,  the  innumerable  inden- 
tations and  turns  of  the  fjord,  the  great  depth 
of  water  which  enables  the  steamer  to  run  up 
close  to  the  cliffs  on  either  side,  the  striking 
effects  produced  by  cloud  shadows  on  moun- 
tain, valley,  and  water,  and  the  extraordinary 

[91] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


beauty  and  brilliancy  of  the  fjord's  surface, — 
all  these  combined  to  make  the  day  a  memor- 
able one. 

We  had  on  board  a  German  amateur  pho- 
tographer who  became  so  deeply  impressed 
with  the  beauty  of  the  views  that  he  very 
soon  exhausted  all  the  plates  he  had  in  his 
holders.  With  that  zeal  peculiar  to  the  Nor- 
wegian official,  the  mate  had  the  deck  freight 
removed  from  a  hatch,  opened  this,  and  the 
photographer  was  lowered  into  the  impro- 
vised "dark  room  "  of  the  hold  in  order  that 
he  might  "  load  up  "  some  more  plates.  Ap- 
parently he  must  have  been  forgotten,  for 
in  the  course  of  twenty  minutes  we  heard 
a  tremendous  pounding  and  yelling  proceed- 
ing from  the  dark  hold,  which  finally  brought 
about  the  release  of  the  partially  suffocated 
photographer. 

We  made  frequent  stops  during  the  day 
at  little  settlements  nestled  at  the  foot  of 
steep  but  delightfully  green  valleys,  closely 
shut  in  between  mountains,  and  in  these 

[98] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


cheerful  intervals  in  the  stern  aspect  of  the 
country  we  saw,  for  the  first  time,  one  of 
the  characteristic  inventions  of  the  Norwegian 
farmer.  While,  as  a  rule,  the  higher  moun- 
tains throughout  this  section  are  so  bold  and 
rugged  as  to  effectively  forbid  any  thought 
of  cultivation,  there  are  occasional  spots  way 
up  the  mountainside  upon  which  it  is  pos- 
sible to  cut  a  few  bundles  of  grass.  These 
clearings  are  of  such  trifling  area  that,  in  any 
other  country  but  this,  the  crop  produced 
would  not  be  considered  worth  the  labor  of 
harvesting.  But  not  so  in  Norway,  where 
every  available  square  foot  of  ground  is  util- 
ized with  the  utmost  economy  and  care. 
When  the  farmer  has  toiled  up  a  thousand 
feet  or  more  to  these  little  oases  in  the  rocky 
deserts,  and  has  mowed  the  trifling  crop  of 
grass  contained  thereon,  it  is  necessary,  be- 
fore the  hay  can  be  cured,  to  find  some 
method  of  getting  it  down  the  mountain  to 
the  valley  below.  A  stout  wire  or  cable  is 
run  from  each  one  of  these  clearings  to  the 

193] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


farms  on  the  lower  level,  and  on  this  wire, 
which  is  made  very  taut  by  the  aid  of  a 
windlass,  the  grass,  tied  in  bundles,  and  at- 
tached to  a  wheel  or  "traveller,"  is  lowered 
to  the  valley  below.  The  effect  of  these  many 
lines  running  up  the  sides  of  the  mountains 
in  all  directions  is  curious,  and  it  is  interest- 
ing to  watch  a  bundle  of  grass  start  from  the 
summit,  at  first  a  mere  speck  on  the  moun- 
tainside, growing  larger  in  its  rapid  approach, 
and  finally  received  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  route  by  the  farmer's  wife,  who,  in  this 
country,  certainly  does  her  full  share  of  the 
harvest  work. 

This  method  is  not,  however,  confined 
exclusively  to  the  hay  crop,  but  is  also  used 
in  lowering  wood  and  the  leaves  of  the  ash- 
tree,  the  latter,  as  already  noted,  being  gath- 
ered in  the  autumn  in  quantities,  cured,  and 
used  for  winter  fodder.  And  it  also  not  in- 
frequently happens  that  in  some  favored  spots 
up  the  mountain  a  meadow  may  exist  of 
sufficient  size  to  furnish  pasture  for  a  cow 

[H] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


in  the  summer  months  and  thus  save  the 
valley  feeding  for  the  late  autumn.  The 
cows,  with  no  little  difficulty,  are  driven  up 
paths  which  seem  almost  impassable  for  man 
or  beast  and  are  left  with  an  attendant  in 
these  spots  for  two  months  in  summer,  their 
milk  being  placed  in  cans  and  lowered  each 
day  in  the  same  manner  as  the  hay  and 
wood. 

We  enjoyed  a  capital  dinner  at  two  o'clock, 
after  which  excellent  coffee  was  served  at 
little  tables  on  the  upper  deck,  where,  in 
comfortable  chairs,  we  had  an  uninterrupted 
view  of  the  scenery  of  the  fjord, —  scenery 
which  grew  more  and  more  strikingly  pic- 
turesque as  we  journeyed  onward.  There 
were  a  few  other  passengers  on  board,  among 
them  a  Norwegian  Judge,  his  wife,  and 
daughter,  the  latter  a  cultivated  young  lady 
who  had  some  knowledge  of  English.  In 
his  zeal  to  study  the  spirit  of  the  country 
through  which  he  was  passing,  the  Doctor  de- 
voted himself,  with  commendable  assiduity,  to 

[86] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


conversation  with  the  maiden,  who  received 
his  advances  with  evident  satisfaction,  for  the 
learned  gentleman  has,  by  no  means,  out- 
grown his  influence  over  the  superior  sex, 
while  the  Rambler  was  forced  to  content 
himself  with  his  pipe  and  the  scenery,  the 
marked  tete-a-tete  capacity  of  the  Doctor 
making  it  quite  evident  that  sometimes  "three 
is  a  crowd." 

It  is  difficult  to  speak  in  moderation  of  this 
scenery,  for  each  day  and  each  hour  opens 
up  new  visions  of  its  beauty  and  grandeur, 
and  especially  in  the  afternoon  lights  one  is 
sorely  tempted  to  the  use  of  extravagant  ad- 
jectives. The  sun  shone  brilliantly,  yet  it 
was  frequently  hidden  for  a  few  minutes 
behind  light  clouds  whose  shadow,  passing 
over  mountain  and  fjord,  only  served  to  en- 
hance the  beauty  of  the  scene.  The  air  was 
wonderfully  clear  and  sparkling,  but  so  mild 
that,  although  we  were  travelling  at  a  very 
fair  speed,  overcoats  were  not  needed;  the 
colors  of  the  water,  while  constantly  chang- 

[96] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


ing  in  tone,  seemed  to  increase  in  richness 
and  brilliancy  as  the  fjord  narrowed  and  the 
shadows  grew  longer,  while  the  mountains 
each  hour  became  more  and  more  bold  and 
impressive.  Sometimes  we  found  ourselves 
in  what  appeared  like  a  little  inland  lake  with 
a  depth  of  water  such  that  the  steamer  ran 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  perpendicular  cliffs, 
and  there  seemed  to  the  stranger  no  possible 
outlet  to  this  lake.  We  would  head  for  a 
sheer  wall  of  granite,  upon  which  it  seemed 
as  though  we  must,  in  a  few  moments,  be 
dashed,  when  suddenly,  with  a  quick  turn 
of  the  helm,  we  would  find  ourselves  around 
a  new  point  of  land  and  in  ample  water, 
making  a  straight  course  for  a  landing  at  the 
foot  of  an  exquisite  little  valley,  apparently 
closed  in  upon  all  sides  by  precipitate  moun- 
tains. At  each  one  of  these  landings,  always 
effected  without  an  order  being  given  above 
the  ordinary  tone  of  the  quiet  and  dignified 
Norwegian  voice,  those  on  the  dock  would 
take  off  their  hats  in  saluting  our  captain, 

7  [97] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


a  courtesy  which  the  latter  never  failed  to 
acknowledge. 

Finally,  after  running  up  a  little  arm  of  the 
sea  to  Hellesylt,  we  retraced  our  course  a 
couple  of  miles  and  entered  the  wonderful 
Geiranger  Fjord,  at  the  head  of  which  is 
situated  Merok,  the  end  of  the  steamer  route. 

It  was  now  past  seven  o'clock,  and  the  sink- 
ing sun  made  the  surface  of  the  water  and 
the  lower  portion  of  the  mountains  deep  in 
shadow.  The  tops  of  these  stupendous  ele- 
vations were  still  bathed  in  an  exquisite  pink, 
which  coloring  was  peculiarly  striking  and 
beautiful  upon  the  snow-capped  summits. 
The  fjord  itself  is  so  narrow  that  in  many 
places  a  stone  could  easily  have  been  thrown 
from  the  steamer  to  either  side  and  struck 
the  sheer  cliffs  rising  a  couple  of  thousand 
feet  on  the  right  and  left  of  us.  Waterfalls 
innumerable,  many  of  them  of  large  size,  fell 
into  the  fjord  and  from  such  an  elevation  that 
the  water  seemed  often  to  come  directly  from 
a  cloud  touching  the  mountain-top.  One  of 

[98] 


The  Geiranger  Fjord 


these  streams,  the  Syv  Sestre,  or  "seven 
sisters,"  separates  at  the  top  of  a  perpendicu- 
lar cliff  and  falls  into  the  sea  from  a  great 
height,  in  no  less  than  seven  distinct  and 
fairly  uniform  outlets;  but  the  whole  Gei- 
ranger is  filled  with  these  streams,  many  of 
them  appearing  in  the  distance  like  mere 
streaks  down  the  side  of  the  mountains,  to 
assume  proportions  of  no  mean  size  when 
seen  at  nearer  range. 

As  we  rounded  a  point  at  about  half-past 
eight  we  saw  the  head  of  the  fjord,  at  which 
nestled  the  little  hamlet  of  Merok,  and  to  the 
right,  by  the  last  glimmer  of  daylight,  we 
could  make  out  the  snow  fields  of  the  Fly- 
dalshorn.  Once  again  we  resigned  the  only 
carriage  at  the  dock  to  the  ladies  and  we 
walked  up  the  steep  ascent  to  the  hotel, 
perched  at  a  considerable  elevation  above  the 
fjord. 


VII 
MEROK  AND  THE  GEIRANGER  ROAD 

OF  all  charming  situations  for  a  hotel  few 
can  possibly  exceed  in  beauty  that  of 
the  inn  at  Merok.  The  settlement  itself  con- 
sists of  but  a  few  houses  directly  at  the  landing, 
these  being  principally  occupied  by  fishermen. 
Rising  from  this  hamlet  begins  the  road  which 
pursues  its  winding  way  for  many  miles  over 
the  mountains  to  the  southeast,  and  a  couple 
of  hundred  feet  above  tide-water  stands  the 
hotel  by  itself,  shaded  by  trees  and  brightened 
by  many  flowers,  in  which  latter  the  hostess 
is  deeply  interested.  Looking  down  from 
this  hotel  one  does  not  see  the  little  settlement 
below,  this  being  shut  in  by  a  lower  hill,  but 
the  outlook  upon  the  brilliant  surface  of  the 
fjord,  apparently  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  is 
charming  in  the  extreme.  Directly  in  front 
of  the  hotel  runs  the  river  Storfos,  a  rushing, 

[100] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

foaming,  and  turbulent  stream  of  considerable 
power,  which  falls  over  a  precipice  just  below, 
and  then  continues  its  way  through  the 
meadows  in  an  absolutely  quiet  and  dignified 
manner  until  it  is  swallowed  up  in  the  waters 
of  the  fjord.  Turning  now  to  the  southward 
and  looking  up  the  valley  we  find  a  picture  of 
great  charm  and  picturesqueness.  The  valley 
itself  is  both  narrow  and  short,  but  it  is  filled 
with  bright  green  fields  and  clumps  of  white 
birch  and  ash,  through  which  we  catch  the 
white  flashes  of  the  Storfos  winding  its  way 
down  to  the  sea.  At  the  head  of  this  little 
valley  the  mountains  rise  with  great  abrupt- 
ness and  over  this  obstruction  the  road  must 
find  its  way  to  the  pass  beyond.  Standing  at 
the  hotel  we  see  this  highway  winding  by  long 
loops,  forward  and  backward,  ascending  very 
slowly  but  surely  until  it  appears  but  a  thread, 
and  then  is  finally  lost  over  the  top  of  the 
divide. 

It  was  another  of  the  perfect  mornings  of 
which  the  clerk  of  the  weather  has  granted  us 

[101] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


so  many,  and  the  fisherman  of  the  party  de- 
cided to  take  a  cast  in  the  Storfos  where  it 
discharges  into  the  fjord,  the  Doctor  in  the 
meantime  making  a  quite  unnecessary  exertion 
to  improve  his  appetite  for  dinner  by  taking  a 
row  on  the  fjord.  Going  down  the  hill  we 
were  much  interested  in  looking  at  the  domes- 
tic grist-mills,  whose  motive  power  was  fur- 
nished by  a  small  but  energetic  stream  flowing 
into  the  Storfos,  these  little  mills  apparently 
turning  out  a  supply  of  family  flour,  with  very 
little  human  supervision,  and  with  quite  the 
same  zeal  and  attention  to  business  as  is  shown 
by  the  vast  machinery  of  the  plant  at  Minne- 
apolis. These  little  huts,  but  a  few  feet 
square,  are  met  with  everywhere  throughout 
the  country,  and  they  not  only  add  a  quaint 
and  picturesque  feature  to  the  brooks  on 
which  they  are  placed,  but  they  are  interesting 
as  showing  the  force  of  water  in  even  the 
smallest  of  streams,  and  the  amount  that  may 
be  accomplished  by  its  aid,  automatically  and 
with  the  smallest  measure  of  personal  attention. 

[102] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

We  had  recently  come  from  Holland  and 
one  could  not  but  compare  the  different 
national  methods  of  harnessing  the  elements. 
In  Holland  the  wind  is  called  upon  to  do  the 
major  part  of  the  work  of  the  country,  and  by 
its  aid  the  sea  is  kept  from  inundating  the 
land.  In  Norway,  however,  the  breezes 
cannot  be  depended  upon  for  steady  labor, 
nor  is  this  necessary,  for  the  innumerable 
streams  and  waterfalls  furnish  an  absolutely 
unlimited  power,  which,  properly  directed, 
is  equal  to  the  task  of  carrying  out  all  the 
work  which  the  country  has  so  far  under- 
taken. 

But  the  fish.  It  was  indeed  extremely  pleas- 
ant to  sit  in  the  stern  of  a  little  skiff  and  cast 
into  the  waters  of  the  fjord,  while  being 
rowed  back  and  forth  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river,  and  while  all  fishermen,  presumably, 
take  kindly  to  frequent  rises,  the  exquisite 
surroundings  of  the  present  pool  and  the  glo- 
rious morning  really  rendered  the  pleasure  of 
"killing  something"  of  comparatively  minor 

[108] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


importance.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  when  a  good  "rise"  finally  came 
the  fisherman's  interest  and  zeal  increased  in 
no  slight  measure,  and  never  has  he  seen  trout 
with  such  fighting  capacity  as  these  of  the 
Geiranger  Fjord.  They  were  small,  never 
reaching  a  pound  in  weight,  but  their  ability 
for  jumping  out  of  the  water  after  being 
hooked  was  far  more  like  the  energetic  action 
of  the  ouaniniche  than  that  of  any  trout  pre- 
viously handled  by  the  same  rod.  Indeed 
when  landed  the  general  effect  of  the  Geiran- 
ger trout  is  extremely  like  the  ouaniniche, 
being  much  lighter  in  color  and  much  more 
"clipper  built"  than  our  salmo  fontinalis, 
The  flesh  is  almost  white  and  it  is  extremely 
delicate  and  sweet. 

But  the  season  was  far  gone,  and  we  can 
readily  believe  that  the  trout  are  plenty  and  of 
good  size  in  July  and  August.  While  the 
present  fisherman's  bag  was  small  he  had  no 
hesitation  in  acknowledging  a  delightful  morn- 
ing amid  as  charming  and  picturesque  sur- 

[104] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

roundings  as  the  most  grasping  of  sportsmen 
could  ask  for. 

The  Doctor,  also,  had  enjoyed  himself  by 
rowing  down  the  fjord  a  couple  of  miles  and 
taking  a  dip  in  the  somewhat  icy  waters,  and 
both  travellers  returned  to  the  hotel  for  two 
o'clock  dinner  with  ravenous  appetites. 

To  many  people  the  frequent  introduction 
in  descriptions  of  travel  of  such  vulgar  episodes 
as  those  of  eating  and  drinking  is  objectiona- 
ble, and  we  fear  that  the  traveller  of  fair  di- 
gestion may  be  a  little  apt  to  stray  into  the 
realms  of  materialism  in  this  matter.  It  is  in- 
deed quite  possible  that  there  may  exist  people 
whose  make-up  is  of  such  a  spiritual  nature, 
that,  in  a  foreign  land,  food  is  simply  a  mili- 
tary necessity,  and  any  reference  to  the  same 
therefore  unworthy  of  the  true  lover  of  nature. 
The  present  travellers,  it  must  be  confessed, 
even  with  humiliation,  found  that  their  vision 
of  the  natural  wonders  and  beauties  sur- 
rounding them  was  vitally  affected  by  the 
influence  of  a  good  meal,  and  while  it  would 

[105] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


undoubtedly  show  a  more  ethereal  nature  if 
such  could  be  ignored,  both  the  Doctor  and 
the  Rambler  often  found,  to  their  chagrin,  that 
views  of  things  terrestrial  and  celestial  de- 
pended, in  no  small  measure,  upon  this  ele- 
ment of  substantial  and  regular  sustenance. 
Their  only  excuse  to  themselves  for  this  ma- 
terialistic condition  was  that  the  climate  of 
Norway,  "really,  don't  you  know,  produces 
such  fabulous  appetites." 

After  dinner  and  a  smoke,  the  fisherman 
was  persuaded  by  "  boots  "  to  try  his  luck  in 
a  small  lake  a  mile  or  two  up  the  valley,  and 
the  same  "  counsellor  and  friend  "  suggested 
that  he  should  act  as  guide.  The  offer  was 
accepted,  but  the  Doctor  could  not  be  induced 
to  join  in  so  frivolous  an  expedition,  and  he 
elected  to  start  off  to  climb  one  of  the  neigh- 
boring mountains. 

We  followed  the  road  for  a  short  distance 
and  then  took  to  the  banks  of  the  stream, 
finally  bringing  up  at  a  most  charming  and 
seductive  looking  pool  into  which  the  stream 

[106] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

plunged  from  a  height  of  twenty-five  feet. 
This  pool  was  about  seventy-five  yards  across, 
and  it  was  very  difficult  to  drop  a  fly  just  be- 
low the  eddy  of  the  fall  where  the  fish  were 
supposed  to  be  lying  in  wait.  The  fisherman 
finally  became  disgusted  at  his  inability  to 
reach  the  desired  spot,  and,  taking  off  his 
shoes  and  stockings,  he  waded  into  the  water, 
which  was  but  a  very  short  distance  from  the 
glacier,  and  was  thus  of  a  temperature  de- 
cidedly cool,  to  say  the  least.  The  pool  was 
finally  "covered"  and  this  resulted  in  one 
small  trout.  The  secondary  result  of  the  un- 
dertaking was  an  attack  of  cramp  in  both  the 
feet  of  the  fisherman  which  required  no  small 
amount  of  energetic  exercise  to  eradicate. 
Again  the  "bag"  was  light,  but  the  Ram- 
bler returned  to  the  hotel  having  greatly  en- 
joyed his  afternoon,  and  the  exquisite  effects 
produced  by  the  setting  sun  on  valley  and 
mountain,  as  we  tramped  back  to  the  hotel, 
were  quite  sufficient  to  justify  the  five-mile 
walk. 

[107] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


We  had  planned  to  start  on  our  way  the 
next  morning,  although  the  thought  of  tear- 
ing ourselves  away  from  the  beauties  of 
Merok  was  not  a  happy  one,  for  it  was  alto- 
gether the  most  attractive  abiding-place  in  all 
its  environment  that  we  had,  so  far,  experi- 
enced. But  when  we  came  down  to  break- 
fast we  found  a  gale  of  great  violence  blowing 
over  the  top  of  the  mountains  and  directly 
down  the  valley.  So  strong  was  the  wind  in 
the  early  morning  that  it  was  difficult  to  stand 
up  against  it,  and  indeed  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible to  walk  up  the  valley.  Our  host  told 
us  that  under  such  conditions  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  attempt  to  climb  the  mountain, 
and  further,  that  our  skud  was  afraid  to 
start  until  the  gale  moderated.  Happily, 
about  ten  o'clock,  the  wind  seemed  to  shift 
more  to  the  west,  and  we  decided  to  risk 
a  start.  Only  a  few  minutes  were  required  to 
pack  our  belongings,  and,  while  our  boy  was 
"stowing  cargo,"  we  started  ahead  on  our 
climb.  But  first  we  had  to  bid  adieu  to  our 

[108] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

pleasant  Norwegian  travelling  companions, 
who  tried  to  impress  upon  us  an  appreciation 
of  the  force  of  the  gale  and  the  difficulties 
which  we  would  encounter  when  we  reached 
the  higher  elevation.  But  we  were  firm  in 
the  impression  that  "we  knew  it  all."  Our 
friends  came  out  to  the  road  to  wish  us  good 
luck  and  we  had  forced  upon  us  a  realizing 
sense  of  the  wind's  momentum,  for  when 
we  stepped  out  on  the  highway  we  found  it 
almost  impossible  to  stand  up  against  it. 

The  Doctor,  always  ready  to  conform  to 
native  customs,  had  purchased  for  himself  a 
Norwegian  cap  as  worn  by  the  skuds.  Perhaps 
the  fact  that  this  cap  was  particularly  becom- 
ing to  the  gentleman  was  an  element  in  its 
use.  The  Rambler  had  started  ahead,  and 
was  bucking  up  against  the  wind  to  the  best 
of  his  ability,  when,  on  turning,  he  saw  his 
chum  making  an  unusually  profound  and 
graceful  bow  to  our  friends.  The  next  in- 
stant the  gale  had  caught  his  favorite  cap  and 
it  was  borne  down  the  valley  towards  the 

[109] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


fjord  at  a  fine  rate  of  speed.  The  hotel  pro- 
prietor organized  a  rescuing  party  and,  event- 
ually, the  missing  property  was  recovered  and 
restored  to  its  owner. 

The  ascent  of  the  mountain  began  a  mile 
from  the  hotel,  and,  reaching  this  point,  we 
were,  for  a  time,  under  the  lee,  and  thus  in  a 
measure  protected  from  the  force  of  the  gale. 
When  the  ascent  begins  the  road  makes  long 
curves  and  winds  up  the  mountain  in  won- 
derfully graceful  loops.  These  mountain  roads, 
as  before  noted,  are  all  made  upon  an  ab- 
solutely even  grade,  therefore  in  going  over 
an  elevation  of  three  or  four  thousand  feet 
one  has  often  to  travel  many  miles  to  accom- 
plish a  very  trifling  distance  in  a  bee-line. 
But  the  superb  engineering  skill  exercised  in 
the  planning  and  construction  of  these  roads, 
the  enterprise  of  a  poor  government  in  build- 
ing them  so  substantially  and  for  all  time,  and 
the  effective  manner  in  which,  being  produced 
at  great  cost,  they  are  kept  in  order  so  that 
they  present  for  scores  of  miles  the  appear- 

[110] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

ance  of  the  best  park  roads  in  our  country, 
is  really  beyond  all  praise. 

As  we  toil  up,  apparently  gaining  but  a 
few  feet  in  elevation  as  we  travel  forward  and 
backward,  we  find  on  many  of  the  loops  of 
the  road  where  a  particularly  fine  prospect 
presents  itself,  comfortable  seats  provided, 
these  being  often  cut  out  of  the  solid  rock, 
and  on  these  the  traveller  may  enjoy  the  ever- 
widening  prospect  and  get  his  breath  before 
making  another  spurt  over  the  next  loop. 
The  road  is,  in  many  places,  blasted  directly 
out  of  the  granite  and,  standing  on  its  outer 
edge,  one  looks  over  a  precipice  rising  many 
feet  from  the  valley  beneath.  But  this  edge 
is  most  carefully  protected  from  all  accidents, 
through  its  entire  length,  by  the  use  of  heavy 
granite  blocks,  four  feet  high,  set  six  or  eight 
feet  apart,  producing  a  very  striking  effect  as 
one  looks  either  from  above  or  below  at  the 
winding  course  of  the  road. 

For  two  hours  we  continued  to  climb,  the 

cold   wind    greatly   increasing  in  force    and 
[in] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


impeding  our  progress.  Finally,  reaching  the 
upper  plateau,  we  stopped  for  a  few  minutes 
under  the  lee  of  a  huge  boulder  to  enjoy  a 
farewell  view  of  the  valley  of  Merok  which 
was  stretched  out  at  our  feet.  For  a  few 
moments  the  whole  scene  of  bright  green 
foliage,  roaring  torrents,  snow-clad  mountains 
and  brilliant  waters  of  the  fjord  sparkled 
gloriously  in  a  burst  of  ephemeral  sunshine, 
and  then  the  clouds  shut  in  again  and  a  drizz- 
ling rain  began,  accompanied  by  a  gale  of 
renewed  energy. 

Pushing  against  the  power  of  the  wind  we 
tried  to  press  our  way,  and  while  our  pro- 
gress because  of  this  was  phenomenally  slow 
on  foot,  the  force  of  the  gale  was  such  that  it 
frequently  seemed  as  though  the  pony  and 
stolkjcere  would  be  carried  bodily  over  the 
cliff.  Once  the  Rambler,  flattering  himself 
that  he  could  get  "under  the  lee"  by  taking 
a  short-cut  between  the  ends  of  two  loops  in 
the  road,  started  to  climb  up  a  faint  trail 
among  the  rocks.  He  had  not  proceeded  far 

(112] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

before  he  discovered  that  he  had  undertaken 
more  than  he  had  bargained  for,  the  path 
being  much  steeper  than  it  had  appeared  from 
below,  and  the  boulders  upon  it  so  loosely 
held  in  place  that  they  had  an  unpleasant 
manner  of  starting  down  upon  the  traveller 
as  he  crawled  upward  on  hands  and  knees. 
One  big  boulder,  apparently  loosened  by  the 
gale,  came  tearing  down  the  hill,  and  in  very 
close  proximity  to  the  climber.  The  latter, 
greatly  to  his  own  relief,  finally  found  himself 
once  more  upon  the  road,  but  he  was  some- 
what exhausted  by  his  experience,  and  he 
welcomed,  with  effusion,  the  kindly  assist- 
ance of  his  chum,  who  quickly  came  to  his 
aid  with  an  acceptable  whiskey  flask. 

Now  we  had,  apparently,  reached  the  sum- 
mit, after  three  hours  of  pretty  hard  climbing, 
the  valley  had  entirely  disappeared  from  view 
and  we  were  surrounded  by  an  extremely 
wild  and  rugged  looking  country.  On  all 
sides  of  us  were  mountains  covered  by  snow 
reaching  almost  to  the  highway  on  which  we 

8  [118] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


travelled,  while  the  road  itself  wound  a  very 
crooked  course  among  the  great  boulders  cov- 
ering the  entire  plain,  upon  which  there  was 
no  sign  of  tree  or  other  vegetation. 

And  all  this  time,  as  we  pushed  our  way 
onward,  the  gale  continued  with  unabated 
force,  and  the  rain,  now  driving  at  us  almost 
horizontally,  turned  to  sleet,  which  cut  like  a 
knife.  But  at  last,  amid  this  desolation,  we 
saw  ahead  a  little  cabin  and  our  shud  yelled  to 
us  that  we  were  half-way  to  our  destination, 
and  that  this  hut  was  the  government  station 
at  which  we  were  to  partake  of  our  midday 
meal. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  hopelessly 
forbidding  place  than  this  same  Djupvashytte. 
Surrounded  on  all  sides  by  mountains  whose 
snows  reach  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  door, 
it  stands  absolutely  alone,  not  only  without 
any  other  habitation  in  sight,  but  without  a 
sign  of  tree  or  grass  or  of  humanity,  except  as 
this  was  indicated  by  the  fine  road  over  which 
we  had  travelled.  Just  below  the  house  was 

[114] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

a  little  lake,  fed  by  the  melting  snow  from  the 
mountains,  but  at  this  time  the  cold  was  so 
intense  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  that 
the  temperature  could  ever  reach  the  melting 
point. 

We  were  ourselves  tired  after  our  three  hours' 
climb  and  were,  moreover,  nearly  congealed 
from  the  effects  of  wind  and  rain,  but  it  must 
be  confessed  that  the  little  hostelry  looked  so 
extremely  uninviting  that  we  entered  it  with 
grave  misgivings.  However  our  spirits  took 
an  upward  bound  when  our  cheerful  hostess 
came  forward  to  welcome  us,  and  one  glance 
sufficed  to  show  that  the  exterior  of  the 
habitation  was  no  criterion  of  its  inward 
cheer. 

The  main  floor  of  the  "hotel"  consisted, 
apparently,of  a  dining-room  attached  to  which, 
at  one  end,  was  a  kitchen.  At  the  other  end 
was  a  sitting-room,  about  ten  feet  square,  and 
a  tiny  bedroom.  A  garret  above  doubtless 
furnished  the  sleeping  accommodations  for 
the  "staff"  of  the  inn.  But  the  whole 

[115] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


interior  of  the  house  was  so  clean,  so  bright 
and  cheery,  in  comparison  with  the  exterior 
desolation,  that  our  benumbed  spirits  began  at 
once  to  rise,  and  our  kindly  hostess,  seeing 
our  wet  and  shivering  condition,  soon  had  a 
delightful  fire  burning  in  the  little  room.  Nat- 
urally our  feelings  quickly  responded  to  these 
attentions  and  we  began  to  think  that,  after 
all,  life  might  possibly  be  worth  while.  But 
something  was  still  lacking  to  make  our  hap- 
piness complete,  and  through  the  open  door 
we  watched  with  intense  interest  the  prepar- 
ation of  our  dinner,  scarcely  daring  to  hope 
that  this  could  possibly  prove  more  than  a 
frugal  and  uninviting  meal. 

When  we  were  notified  that  our  repast  was 
ready  we  drew  up  to  the  table,  with  much 
curiosity,  to  discover  what  this  strange  place 
would  produce  in  the  way  of  a  menu,  and  our 
surprise  was  great  to  find  ourselves  seated 
before  a  table-cloth  and  napkins  of  the  cleanest 
and  most  excellent  quality,  and  to  be  served 
with  a  meal  which  would  have  done  credit  to 

[116] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

a  hostelry  of  a  hundred  times  greater  preten- 
sions. First  a  capital  steaming  hot  soup,  then 
some  excellent  broiled  trout — and  these  must 
have  come  from  a  great  distance, — then  rein- 
deer meat,  followed  by  ryper  or  partridge. 
At  this  point  in  our  repast  we  were  prepared 
for  almost  any  surprise,  but  nevertheless  our 
breath  was  fairly  taken  away  when  our 
hostess  once  more  came  out  of  the  kitchen, 
bearing  aloft  the  chef  d'aeume  of  the  feast,  an 
omelette  souffle,  which  in  all  its  requisite 
qualities  of  fluffy  lightness,  delicacy  and  rich 
brown  color  was  simply  phenomenal,  and 
could  not  have  been  excelled  by  a  "Del- 
monico  "  in  any  land.  It,  indeed,  seemed  to 
us  the  acme  of  the  culinary  art,  and  the 
present  travellers  certainly  endeavored  to  do 
justice  to  the  occasion.  It  should  be  added 
that  in  all  these  Norway  inns  one  always  finds 
a  very  fair  assortment  of  wine  and  the  excel- 
lent ale  or  ol  of  the  country.  The  bottles 
are  arranged  on  a  side  table  and  the  traveller 
makes  his  own  selection  and  includes  the 

[117] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


extremely  moderate  cost  of  the  same  in  his 
reckoning.  On  the  present  occasion  we  felt 
justified  in  the  extravagance  of  the  best  bottle 
of  Burgundy  in  stock,  and  this  was  so  surpris- 
ingly good  that  it  materially  added  to  the 
satisfaction  of  our  dinner. 

Then  again  seated  before  the  cheery  fire, 
we  were  served  with  a  demi-tasse  of  ex- 
cellent coffee,  and  over  this  and  our  cigars  we 
discussed  the  probable  character  of  a  meal 
one  would  be  likely  to  obtain  in  New  Hamp- 
shire amid  similar  environment. 

The  regulations  in  driving  through  Nor- 
way provide,  as  already  noted,  for  a  midday 
rest  of  two  hours;  our  time  was  up,  it  was 
four  o'clock,  and  we  had  many  miles  to  go 
before  night.  Looking  out  we  saw  that  our 
driver  was  all  ready  to  start  and  yet  we  found 
it  no  easy  matter  to  tear  ourselves  away  from 
our  comfortable  surroundings,  upon  which 
we  had  so  recently  looked  with  contempt, 
and  again  brave  the  wind  and  rain.  But  a 

start  was  finally  accomplished,  after  we  had 
[us] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

expressed  our  satisfaction  with  the  treatment 
accorded  to  us  at  Djupvashytte. 

It  still  rained,  and  it  still  blew,  as  we 
journeyed  along  the  road,  bordering  the  frigid 
and  dreary  lake,  the  shores  of  which  were 
almost  entirely  covered  by  snow  and  ice. 
The  surrounding  country  continued  a  won- 
derfully barren  and  desolate  waste,  which 
nevertheless  possessed  a  strange  fascination 
this  dark  day  with  the  clouds  reaching  very 
low  and  shutting  out  the  peaks  of  the  high 
mountains  which  surrounded  us  on  all  sides. 
Our  course  was  on  a  downward  grade  for  al- 
most the  entire  eighteen  miles  to  Grotlid, 
where  we  intended  to  spend  the  night,  but, 
notwithstanding  our  long  and  hard  climb  of 
the  morning,  we  became  so  numbed  with 
the  cold  in  driving  that  we  found  it  no  slight 
relief  to  "  foot  it "  for  a  large  portion  of  the 
downward  journey. 

As  the  afternoon  began  to  wane  the 
surroundings  on  this  plateau  or  fjeld  be- 
came more  and  more  weird,  forbidding,  and 

[119] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


desolate,  the  boulders  among  which  our  road 
twisted  became  larger  and  more  grotesque  in 
form,  and,  again  and  again,  we  passed  great 
rocks  hanging  a  few  yards  above  us,  appar- 
ently so  lightly  held  in  position  that  it  seemed 
as  though  but  a  very  trifling  force  would  be 
sufficient  to  send  them  crashing  down  upon 
the  road.  Scarcely  a  suggestion  of  vegeta- 
tion or  of  soil  is  met  with  in  all  this  vast 
fjeld,  but  occasionally,  nestled  at  the  south 
side  of  one  of  the  huge  masses  of  stone  which 
seem  all  ready  to  crush  it,  we  see  a  clump 
of  beautiful  bluebells  nodding  their  brilliant 
heads  in  the  breeze  and  appearing  extraordi- 
narily out  of  place  in  their  environment. 
Above,  and  in  all  directions,  stand  the  rugged 
outlines  of  the  mountain-tops,  only  visible 
when  the  low-lying  clouds  occasionally  lift 
and  disclose  their  summits,  most  of  which 
are  covered  with  heavy  snow,  and  all  pre- 
senting the  boldest  and  most  strangely  irregu- 
lar forms,  entirely  bare  of  trees  or  vegetation. 
After  three  hours  in  this  valley  of  desola- 

[120] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

tion,  we  see  ahead  a  low-lying  house  and 
outbuildings  and  we  realize  that  we  are  ap- 
proaching Grotlid,  the  end  of  our  day's  journey. 
As  we  reach  the  inn  the  sun,  sinking  over 
the  mountains  in  the  west,  strikes  through 
the  clouds  for  a  few  minutes  and  lights 
up  the  scene  with  a  golden  glow  which  but 
serves  to  make  more  weird  the  effect  of  this 
extraordinary  valley. 

We  were  glad  to  reach  our  destination,  for 
our  day's  journey  had  been  a  hard  one  and 
it  was  with  great  satisfaction  that  we  were 
soon  again  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  good 
fire.  The  distance  accomplished  this  day, 
in  a  direct  line,  was  but  twenty-eight  miles, 
and  yet  this  had  taken  us  nine  hours  of  pretty 
hard  travel. 

The  inn  at  Grotlid  is  surrounded  by  scenery 
of  the  same  character  as  that  through  which 
we  had  been  passing  for  so  many  hours,  al- 
though the  immediate  environment  is  made 
a  little  less  severe  from  the  fact  that  the  pro- 
prietor has  succeeded  in  reclaiming  a  little 

[121] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


piece  of  land,  and  upon  this,  although  it 
is  plentifully  sprinkled  with  huge  boulders, 
he  supports  the  precarious  existence  of  a 
couple  of  cows.  The  house  is  a  government 
station,  and  it  has  to  be  kept  open  the  en- 
tire year.  When  one  thinks  of  the  lonely 
and  dreary  situation  of  this  post  and  the 
length  of  the  Norwegian  winter  the  posi- 
tion of  Boniface  seems  about  as  attractive  as 
that  of  the  keeper  of  a  lighthouse  on  a  barren 
reef. 

The  accommodations  at  the  Grotlid  inn 
were  certainly  somewhat  primitive,  and  as- 
suredly they  could  not  be  called  pretentious. 
Nevertheless  the  food,  while  plain,  is  good, 
the  beds  clean  and  fairly  comfortable,  although 
all  Norway  seems  to  construct  the  latter  upon 
the  theory  that  no  foreigner  can  possibly  ex- 
ceed five  feet  six  in  stature.  What  becomes 
of  the  additional  six  inches  of  the  average 
native  is  a  mystery  which  the  present  writer 
has  not  been  able  to  solve. 

It   was    pleasant  to   sit  before    the    open 

[122] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

hearth-fire  in  the  corner  of  the  little  waiting- 
room,  and,  while  we  enjoyed  our  cigars, 
watch  the  energetic  knitting  of  two  elderly 
Norwegian  ladies,  our  fellow  boarders,  as 
they  apparently  discussed  their  day's  tramp. 
These  ladies  had  come  up  from  Christiania  to 
this  high  and  desolate,  if  not  dreary,  place  for 
an  outing,  and  to  secure  the  benefits  of  the 
mountain  air — which,  to  quote  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,  is  certainly  at  this  season  filled  with  a 
full  measure  of  "sozodont," — and  they  were 
apparently  devoting  themselves  to  exercise 
and  outdoor  life  with  an  energy  which  would 
fill  with  consternation  American  ladies  of  a 
similar  age.  The  following  morning,  an  hour 
before  breakfast,  with  a  temperature  below 
the  freezing  point,  the  Rambler,  on  fishing 
bent,  met  one  of  these  tourists  a  mile  away 
from  the  inn  taking  her  morning  constitu- 
tional, with  great  vigor. 

We  had  asked  to  have  our  morning  meal 
promptly  at  eight  o'clock,  as  we  had  a  long 
day's  journey  before  us,  and,  as  is  always  the 

[128] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


case  in  this  land  of  precision,  our  coffee  was 
served  absolutely  on  time. 

We  had  ordered  our  stolkjcere  to  be  ready 
at  nine  o'clock.  The  Rambler  had  been  up  at 
six  and  had  tried  his  fly,  in  the  stream  near 
the  house,  with  but  indifferent  success.  But 
the  morning  was  certainly  superb  and  won- 
derfully clear;  the  sun  rose  over  the  mountain- 
top,  and  the  temperature,  which  had  fallen 
below  the  freezing  point  in  the  night,  rose  to 
forty-five  degrees  before  we  started  upon  our 
journey,  while  the  air  had  a  delightful  bracing 
quality  which  made  us  feel  as  though  we 
could  accomplish  many  miles  of  tramping 
with  keen  enjoyment. 

While  the  rugged  and  weird  surroundings 
looked  somewhat  less  sombre  and  forbidding 
in  the  sunlight  than  as  seen  amid  the  clouds 
of  the  day  before,  these  still  presented  an 
aspect  which  made  us  quite  ready  to  push  on 
where,  perchance,  some  foliage  and  some 
vegetation  might  greet  the  eye,  and  we  bade 
adieu  to  Grotlid  without  great  regret. 

1124] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

Upon  the  first  mile  of  our  journey  we  re- 
traced the  road  over  which  we  had  travelled 
the  night  before.  Then  we  branched  off  to 
the  west  and  followed  a  superb,  and  recently 
constructed,  road  leading  to  Hjelle.  The  char- 
acter of  the  country  does  not  change  except, 
perhaps,  to  become  more  weird  and  desolate; 
we  passed  a  number  of  small  lakes,  partly 
covered  with  snow  and  ice,  and  a  little  far- 
ther on  the  road  took  us  through  a  bank  of 
snow  six  or  eight  feet  high.  And,  as  though 
sunshine  was  inappropriate  amid  such  sur- 
roundings, the  clouds  again  closed  in  over  the 
mountain-tops,  as  they  did  the  day  before, 
the  cold  rain  began  to  fall,  and  the  wind  started 
up  as  a  miniature  hurricane. 

After  some  three  hours  of  this  bucking  up 
against  wind  and  rain  we,  at  last,  saw  ahead 
of  us  a  house,  the  first  habitation  encountered 
during  the  morning.  It  was  the  Vide-Saetor 
Inn,  and  as  we  reached  it  an  extraordinay  trans- 
formation took  place  in  the  landscape,  and  a 
vision  of  most  surprising  beauty  burst  upon  us. 

[125] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


The  house  itself  stands  almost  directly  upon 
the  side  of  the  road,  and  approaching  it  from 
the  east  and  from  a  lower  level  it  appears  sur- 
rounded by  the  same  desolate  and  forbidding 
country  as  that  through  which  we  had  been 
travelling  for  the  past  two  days.  It  is  only 
when  we  have  absolutely  reached  the  inn  that 
we  fully  realize  the  wonderful  contrasts  which 
Norway  scenery  offers  to  the  traveller.  We 
stand  upon  a  high  plateau  overlooking  a  pre- 
cipice. Behind  us  is  the  interminable  black 
and  forbidding  fjeld  of  desolation  through 
which  we  have  been  journeying,  while  before 
and  below  us  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  val- 
leys imaginable.  The  rain  of  the  morning  had 
ceased  and  the  sun  now  at  midday  shone 
brilliantly,  although  still  occasionally  obscured 
for  a  few  minutes  by  a  passing  cloud.  To 
our  right  and  left,  as  far  as  we  can  see, 
stand  two  ranges  of  snow-clad  mountains, 
whose  form,  though  bold,  seem  less  rugged 
and  desolate  than  those  which  we  had  re- 
cently seen,  for  on  their  sides  is  a  rich  growth 

[126] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

of  birch,  ash,  and  pine,  and  at  their  base  is  the 
charming  valley  of  Videdal.  And  the  bright- 
ness and  beauty  of  this  valley  filled  us  with 
delighted  enthusiasm. 

From  where  we  stood  the  road  began  its 
winding  way  down,  making  a  dozen  long 
loops  ere  it  reached  the  lower  level.  To  the 
right  tumbled  the  foaming  torrent  of  the 
stream  which,  twisting  its  way  in  search  of 
an  outlet,  finally  disappears  as  a  mere  line  in 
the  distance,  the  road  crossing  it  many  times 
by  the  substantial  and  picturesque  bridges 
which  the  Norwegians  know  so  well  how  to 
construct. 

But  the  brilliant  green  of  this  valley,  the 
innumerable  lines  of  hurdles  covered  with 
drying  grass,  the  farmers  and  their  families 
working  in  the  meadows  and  looking  like 
mere  specks,  but  giving  an  air  of  life  and  pros- 
perity to  the  scene,  the  little  turf-covered 
farm-houses  to  be  picked  out  here  and  there 
along  the  road,  and  last,  to  make  the  picture 
complete,  in  the  far  distance  at  the  foot  of  the 

[127] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


valley  and  to  the  right,  jutting  well  out, 
a  bold  spur  of  mountain,  at  the  moment  in 
deep  shadow,  while  just  beyond,  shining  a 
most  brilliant  and  exquisite  blue,  we  could 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  waters  of  Lake  Stryns- 
vand,  toward  which  we  were  journeying — all 
these  in  this  glorious  September  sunshine, 
combined  to  make  a  picture  which  those  who 
saw  it  that  day  will  not  soon  forget. 

We  sat  on  the  little  piazza  of  the  inn  for  an 
hour  discovering  fresh  beauties  in  the  view 
as  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  chased  each 
other  across  the  valley,  but  after  our  morning's 
tramp  we  were  quite  ready  to  do  full  justice 
to  our  dinner  when  this  was  announced. 

In  all  these  hotels  and  inns  thoroughly  busi- 
ness-like and  dignified  methods  appear  to  be 
the  rule.  The  charges  are  fixed  by  govern- 
ment enactment  and  are  uniform,  so  much  for 
a  room  (these  are  practically  all  of  a  grade  in 
any  one  house)  and  so  much  for  each  meal. 
A  trifling  fee  to  the  maid  who  waits  on  you 
and  with  whom  you  usually  settle  your  bill, 

[128] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

is  received  with  thanks  and  a  curtsey.  It  is 
this  great  dignity  and  self-respect  which  ex- 
ists among  all  the  community  with  which 
the  traveller  comes  in  contact  which  is  so  ex- 
tremely admirable  and  agreeable,  and  so  con- 
trary to  one's  experiencein  travelling  amongthe 
Latin  races,  where  the  manifest  purpose  of  the 
natives  is  to  get  all  they  can,  upon  the  theory 
that  a  traveller  is  an  individual  from  whose 
purse  should  be  extracted  every  available 
coin.  In  all  our  journeyings  we  have  yet 
to  see  an  act  of  dishonesty  among  the  natives, 
while  we  have  heard  of  several  instances 
where  the  most  extraordinary  amount  of 
trouble  has  been  taken  by  inn-keepers  and 
porters  to  reach  a  traveller  and  restore  some 
piece  of  property  left  behind. 

Then  again  their  quiet  manner  and  absence 
of  all  bluster  is  at  first  apt  to  lead  the  visitor 
to  assume  that  they  are  a  slow  and  stolid 
people,  and  that  it  is  his  bounden  duty  to  instil 
into  their  movements  a  little  of  the  "strenu- 
ous life "  so  dear  to  the  American  heart. 

9  [129] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


Thank  Heaven  there  is  a  Norway  where  an 
American,  somewhat  weary  of  the  boastful 
push  and  noisy  "hustling"  of  both  commer- 
cial and  social  existence,  may  look,  if  only  for 
a  brief  time,  at  what  these  people  have  accom- 
plished in  their  quiet,  methodical  way,  and  in 
doing  so  may  perhaps  venture  to  question 
whether  that  strenuousness  of  which  our 
worthy  President  is  so  able  an  exponent  is, 
after  all,  the  only  measure  of  life  and  of 
progress. 

Because  of  the  apparent  absence  of  haste 
one  is  apt  to  think  that  the  schedule  will  be 
delayed  unless  inn-keepers  and  drivers  are 
energetically  prodded.  Nothing,  however,  is 
farther  from  the  truth.  If  you  start  with  a 
schedule  of  say  five  or  ten  hours  to  your  next 
station,  at  the  time  specified  you  will  reach 
your  destination.  You  may  be  a  little  aggra- 
vated by  the  frequency  with  which  your 
horse  is  permitted  to  walk  in  the  first  stage  of 
your  journey,  and,  in  your  not  unnatural  irri- 
tation, you  may  urge  greater  haste.  It  is  quite 

[130] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

idle  ;  the  skud,  whether  man  or  boy,  knows 
his  work  better  than  you  do,  and  while  he  is 
always  respectful  and  smiling,  no  urging  or 
promises  of  pourboire  will  change  his  gait  a 
fraction.  The  schedule  has  been  arranged 
by  the  powers  that  be,  the  skud,  always 
carrying  a  watch,  knows  "where  he  is  at" 
and  you  may  absolutely  depend  upon  getting  in 
on  time,  but  not  many  minutes  ahead  of  time. 
Again,  your  driver  always  looks  you  up  for 
orders  when  you  appear  in  the  morning.  If 
you  say  you  want  to  start  at  nine  o'clock,  you 
may  depend  that  at  this  time  your  luggage 
will  be  stowed  and  the  skud  waiting  for  you. 
It  is  this  same  promptness  and  regularity  in 
the  inns  which  impresses  one  as  so  pleasant 
and  so  unexpected. 

This  whole  country,  even  in  its  wildest 
parts,  is  interlaced  with  a  most  excellent  tele- 
phone system,  and  the  ease  and  regularity  of 
its  use  among  the  country  people  is  one  of  the 
great  surprises  for  the  traveller,  who  is  a 
little  apt  to  think  of  this  modern  innovation  as 

[181] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


belonging  exclusively  to  more  progressive 
countries.  The  advantage  to  the  traveller  of 
such  a  convenience  over  these  long  and  sparsely 
populated  districts  is  very  great,  but  the  cost 
of  erection  and  of  installation  of  the  Norway 
telephone  system  makes  one  wonder  how  the, 
by  no  means,  wealthy  government  could  find 
the  funds  to  carry  out  such  a  work.  Through 
and  over  mountains  uninhabited  for  miles,  un- 
der the  waters  of  fjords,  and  through  districts 
so  barren  of  all  timber  that  the  necessary  poles 
must  have  been  hauled  many  a  troublesome 
mile,  these  lines  are  built.  Miles  and  miles  of 
these  telephone  poles  have  to  be  set  on  the 
top,  or  on  the  side,  of  the  solid  rock,  to  which 
they  are  fastened  by  iron  braces  or  by  iron 
straps  ;  in  other  sections  it  is  necessary  to  se- 
cure the  poles  by  building  piers  around  their 
base,  the  stones  for  these  being  dressed  and 
cemented  securely,  while  for  some  miles,  on 
one  road  which  we  travelled,  the  wires  were 
supported  by  iron  brackets  fastened  into  the 
solid  rock  and  overhanging  the  road  cut  into 

[132] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

the  cliff.  But  the  convenience  of  this  enter- 
prise upon  the  part  of  the  government  to  the 
traveller  is  great.  If  you  start  from  a  station 
at  nine  o'clock  and  expect  to  reach  the  next 
station,  thirty  miles  distant,  at  one,  you  tele- 
phone to  the  latter  ordering  dinner  at  this  time, 
and  the  cost  of  this  'phone  is  25  ore  or  7^ 
cents.  When  you  reach  your  dining  place 
you  may  be  absolutely  certain  that  your  meal 
will  be  ready  and  hot,  precisely  at  the  time 
specified  in  your  order. 

So  we  sat  and  talked  on  the  little  piazza  at 
Vide-Saetor,  while  we  smoked  and  drank  our 
excellent  cup  of  coffee,  and  some  doubts  were 
expressed  as  to  whether,  after  all,  American 
methods  represented  all  that  is  desirable  in  life. 
But  then,  it  must  be  confessed,  we  had  been 
served  with  a  most  excellent  dinner,  we  were 
smoking  our  last  Havanas,  and  the  view  and 
the  sunshine  were  both  superlatively  fine  as 
we  looked  down  the  valley. 

Both  the  coffee  and  the  method  of  serving  the 
same  is  an  admirable  feature  of  these  little  inns. 

[188] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


Half  an  hour  after  dinner  it  is  brought  to  you 
on  the  piazza,  in  the  garden,  or  perhaps  in 
some  little  summer-house  overhanging  a  roar- 
ing torrent,  and  shaded  by  the  red-berried  ash 
and  the  delicate-leafed  silver  birch.  A  maid, 
usually  of  attractive  appearance,  and  always 
neat,  brings  out  a  silver  salver,  upon  which  is 
a  pot  of  steaming  hot  coffee,  some  jolly  little 
cups,  sugar,  and  delicious  cream.  In  even  the 
smallest  and  least  pretentious  inns  this  custom 
is  adhered  to,  and  it  presents  to  the  traveller 
one  of  the  amenities  of  life  in  a  manner  most 
attractive. 

But  there  was  still  a  large  part  of  our  day's 
journey  before  us,  and  while  we  had  found  few 
places  which  equalled  in  attraction  this  piazza. 
at  Vide-Saetor,  with  its  wonderful  outlook,  it 
was  imperative  that  we  should  proceed  on  our 
way.  Exercise,  after  our  dinner  and  rest,  was 
quite  in  order  and  we  therefore  started  on  foot 
down  the  road  of  many  turnings  to  the  valley 
below,  leaving  our  stolkjcere  to  follow  us  a 
little  later.  It  overtook  us  before  we  had 

[184] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

reached  the  lower  road,  for  we  could  not  re- 
frain from  making  many  stops  on  our  way  to 
admire  the  ever-changing  view,  the  details  of 
the  valley  becoming  more  and  more  markedly 
beautiful  as  we  descended.  At  one  place  this 
road  is  carried  over  the  river  by  a  superbly 
constructed  stone  bridge,  or  viaduct,  of  finely 
formed  arches,  from  which  you  look  down  to 
the  rushing  torrent  flowing  three  hundred  feet 
below  you. 

Getting  into  our  vehicle  once  more  we  jogged 
along  at  a  good  rate,  passing  many  charming 
little  farms  on  our  way.  The  harvest  was  in 
progress  and  the  care  with  which  every  blade 
of  grass  and  every  spear  of  grain  is  preserved 
impresses  the  stranger  with  wonder  and  ad- 
miration. The  haying  here  is  of  the  second 
growth,  the  height  of  the  grass  not  being 
over  three  or  four  inches.  In  our  land  such 
grass  would  be  considered  simply  ridiculous 
for  hay,  but  here,  every  stone  of  even  the 
smallest  size  having  been  carefully  gathered 
from  the  field,  year  after  year,  the  short- 

[185] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


bladed  but  razor-like  scythes  cut  this  grass 
with  the  closeness  of  a  well-kept  lawn.  It  is 
so  light,  and  so  lacking  in  all  substance,  that 
one  is  surprised  that,  even  the  most  eco- 
nomical of  farmers  can  afford  to  gather  it,  but 
we  have  to  remember  that  the  winter  is  long, 
the  stock  must  be  kept  alive,  and  every  few 
pounds  of  hay,  even  of  the  lightest  description, 
helps  to  this  result.  So  the  grass  is  raked  up 
until  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  handful 
overlooked  in  the  entire  field,  and  the  women 
and  children  (for  all  are  pressed  into  the  ser- 
vice) gather  it  and  hang  it  to  dry  on  hurdles 
or  fences  conveniently  arranged  in  every 
meadow.  For  the  ordinary  method  of  curing 
hay  by  leaving  it  on  the  ground  to  dry  would 
be  totally  futile  in  this  damp  climate,  and  be- 
cause of  the  limited  amount  of  sunshine  and 
the  abnormal  rainfall,  these  methods,  which 
we  should  consider  as  extraordinarily  expen- 
sive, have  to  be  followed  by  the  patient  Nor- 
wegian farmer.  Sometimes  the  grass  has  to 
be  left  on  these  hurdles  for  a  week  or  more 

[136] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

before  it  is  cured  sufficiently  to  put  under 
cover;  then,  taking  advantage  of  a  few  hours 
of  sunshine,  the  hay  is  hurried  "by  all  hands" 
under  shelter  before  another  shower  strikes  it. 

The  barley  and  oats  are  similarly  treated, 
but  instead  of  placing  the  sheaves  on  hurdles, 
they  are  fastened,  one  on  top  of  the  other,  on 
poles  set  in  the  ground,  the  grain  reaching  up 
seven  or  eight  feet,  with  the  top  sheaf,  cleverly 
placed,  head  downward,  at  an  angle  of  forty- 
five  degrees.  The  heads  are  always  turned  to 
the  south,  that  they  may  benefit  by  every  ray 
of  sunshine,  and  the  top  sheaf  is  so  arranged 
as  to  shed  the  rain.  Looking  from  the  south, 
in  the  gloaming,  at  a  meadow  of  barley  thus 
treated,  the  effect  is  very  odd  and  reminds  one 
of  a  field  filled  with  mammoth  Indian  chiefs, 
dressed  in  their  war-feathers,  stretching  from 
their  head  nearly  to  the  ground. 

It  was  extremely  beautiful  as  we  passed 
through  this  valley,  with  its  greenness,  its 
roaring  stream,  its  fine  ash  and  birch,  and 
with  its  many  prosperous-looking  farm-houses 

[187] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


and  well-fed  people  and  cattle.  So  charming 
was  the  whole  scene  that  we  almost  regretted 
reaching  Hjelle  at  the  head  of  the  exquisite 
little  lake,  a  glimpse  of  which  we  had  caught 
from  the  mountain  as  we  came  out  of  the 
fjeld  of  desolation.  The  hamlet  of  Hjelle 
however,  occupies  a  most  fascinating  pos- 
ition. In  front  is  the  brilliant  Strynsvand, 
with  its  wonderfully  clear  water  sparkling  in 
the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun,  behind  us  lies  the 
charming  green  valley  through  which  we  had 
just  passed,  backed  at  its  upper  end  by  the 
snow-capped  mountains,  while  the  irregular 
shaped  lake  itself,  about  twelve  miles  long,  is 
flanked  on  either  side  by  mountains  rising  four 
and  five  thousand  feet  above  it  from  which 
tumble  innumerable  snow-fed  torrents  of  no 
mean  proportions.  The  whole  outlook,  north, 
east,  south,  and  west  must  be  striking  at  any 
time,  but  as  we  stood  on  the  shore  with  the 
September  sun  sinking  over  the  mountain  on 
our  left  and  throwing  this  in  deep  shadow, 
while  the  easterly  side  of  the  lake  and  the 

[138] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

mountain-sides,  with  their  falls,  were  covered 
with  a  golden  glory  of  color,  it  certainly  seemed 
to  us  a  picture  well  worth  remembering. 

The  little  steamer  which  plies  on  the  lake 
was  at  the  dock,  but  it  did  not  leave  for  an 
hour,  so  the  happy  thought  struck  the  Doctor 
(he  is  always  originating  brilliant  suggestions 
when  not  engaged  in  discussing  in  Norsk  the 
politics  of  the  country)  that  we  should  take  a 
row-boat  and  be  carried  the  seven  miles 
which  we  needed  to  go  by  water  before  we 
could  again  pick  up  our  road  and  a  fresh  stolk- 
jccre.  We  had  no  difficulty  in  consummating 
this  arrangement  at  a  very  moderate  expense, 
and  first  having  telephoned  to  Vesnaes,  our 
next  abiding  place,  to  send  a  stolkjcere  half- 
way to  meet  us  on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  we 
put  our  belongings  aboard  the  comfortable 
little  row-boat  and  started  on  our  way,  with 
two  Vikings  at  the  oars.  That  evening's  row 
with  its  exquisite  colorings,  its  glorious  sun- 
set, and  its  views  of  endless  waterfalls,  was 
certainly  striking  in  the  extreme;  and  truly  the 

[189] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


danger  in  describing  the  colors  and  the  scen- 
ery in  travelling  through  Norway  is  of  be- 
coming extravagant,  because  each  place  the 
visitor  reaches  opens  scenes  and  visions 
which  present  charms  seemingly  far  beyond 
any  of  its  predecessors. 

After  a  little  over  an  hour's  row  we  reached 
the  shore  at  the  terminus  of  the  road  from 
Vesnaes  and,  as  usual,  found  our  stolhjcere 
ready  waiting  for  us.  It  was  a  ten-mile  drive 
and  the  hour  was  already  seven,  but  the  day- 
light had  not  yet  failed  and  the  evening  effects 
along  the  road  at  the  border  of  the  lake  were 
wonderfully  fine.  But  we  now  began  to 
realize  the  sad  fact  that  the  days  were  rapidly 
shortening.  When  we  started  in  August  we 
had  bright  daylight  until  nine  o'clock.  Now, 
but  a  few  weeks  later,  the  sun  had  changed 
its  schedule  in  a  very  marked  degree  and  we 
began  to  understand,  in  thinking  of  winter  in 
these  regions,  that  there  always  appears  to  be 
a  law  of  compensation  in  the  methods  of  na- 
ture. If  Norway  is  blessed  with  practically  end- 

[140] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

less  day  in  June  and  July  it  is  soon  brought  to 
a  realizing  sense  that  it  must  pay  for  this 
unusual  dispensation,  the  other  side  of  the 
picture  being  November,  December,  and  Jan- 
uary, when  but  four  hours  of  sunshine  and 
but  little  more  of  daylight  are  vouchsafed  to 
its  inhabitants  at  this  particular  latitude, 
while,  of  course,  farther  north,  the  natives 
are  still  more  limited  in  their  winter  days. 
Even  the  brightness  of  the  summer  months 
does  not  seem  altogether  an  unmixed  bless- 
ing, especially  for  the  salmon.  One  English 
fisherman  in  telling  of  his  experiences  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  the  largest  fish  killed 
by  him  during  the  past  season  was  taken 
"after  supper,"  as  he  expressed  it.  He  had 
gone  out  on  the  river  at  ten  o'clock  to  cast 
his  fly  and  then  fished  until  i  A.  M.,  at  which 
hour  he  landed  his  big  fish;  then  realizing 
that  the  sun  would  soon  be  up,  it  seemed  to 
him  in  order  to  retrace  his  steps  and  "turn 
in."  This  method  of  spending  the  "  wee 
sma'  hours "  may  be  eminently  proper  in 

[141] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


finishing  out  a  ball,  but  it  does  appear  a  trifle 
severe  on  the  rights  of  the  poor  salmon,  who, 
it  seems,  should  be  entitled  to  at  least  a  few 
hours  of  freedom  from  the  toils  of  the  angler. 

We  arrived  at  Vesnaes  at  a  little  after  eight 
o'clock  and  found  there  a  large  hotel  charm- 
ingly situated  near  the  head  of  the  Nord 
Fjord.  The  house  had  but  four  guests  and 
we  thus  had  ample  opportunity  to  make  a 
selection  of  rooms.  Indeed  the  absence  of 
all  crowds  and  all  that  this  means  of  dis- 
comfort, especially  when  the  crowds  are 
made  up  of  frigid  Englishmen  and  boorish 
Germans,  is  one  of  the  great  advantages  of 
September  travel  in  Norway. 

The  government  supervision  over  the  hotels 
and  their  arrangements  is,  apparently,  quite 
rigid.  In  nearly  all  of  the  larger  houses  the 
rooms  are  provided  with  rope  fire-escapes  of 
decidedly  peculiar  construction,  and  carefully 
printed  instructions  are  given  in  three  langua- 
ges as  to  the  manipulation  of  the  apparatus. 
These  are  posted  in  every  room  and  the  legend 

[H2] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

in  English  concludes  as  follows:  "  You  may 
regulate  the  hurry  by  keeping  the  rope  under 
the  log."  There  is  nothing  of  greater  import- 
ance to  the  average  American  traveller  than 
to  learn  how  "to  regulate  the  hurry,"  and 
we  were  duly  impressed  by  the  instructions. 

While  comparatively  few  Americans  journey 
through  this  part  of  the  country,  it  is  fre- 
quented in  the  season  by  a  large  and,  appar- 
ently, increasing  number  of  English  and 
Germans  of  both  sexes,  and  the  latter,  since 
the  Emperor  has  found  the  North  Cape  attrac- 
tive for  his  summer  cruises,  seem  to  consider 
Norway  as  "  the  correct  thing  "  for  their  out- 
ings. Happily,  as  before  noted,  we  have 
been  spared  much  suffering  from  this  cause, 
but  our  limited  experience  has  made  us  feel 
some  doubt  of  the  pleasure  of  a  trip  in  this 
particular  section  in  midsummer. 

The  German  manner  to  strangers  —  or 
rather  such  as  we  have  seen  or  heard  of  in 
Norway  —  is  peculiarly  and  exasperatingly 
pushing  and  pugnacious.  The  requirements 

[143] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


seem  to  be  that  under  no  circumstances  must 
the  Teuton  give  way  to  any  one,  and  whether 
it  be  at  table,  in  the  hall,  or  on  the  road,  his 
appearance  is  as  though  he  were  always  ask- 
ing you,  with  the  fiercest  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, "to  knock  a  chip  off  his  shoulder." 
The  Englishmen — or  it  would  be  fairer  to  say 
some  of  them,  for  we  have  met  one  or  two 
notable  exceptions  —  absolutely  ignore  your 
existence  in  every  way.  It  never  seriously 
seems  to  occur  to  them,  for  a  moment,  that 
the  world  can  contain  anybody  but  them- 
selves who  may  be  worthy  of  the  slightest 
consideration,  and  no  mere  stranger  can 
possibly  have  a  right  to  look  to  them  for  the 
smallest  of  the  ordinary  courtesies  between 
travellers.  It  is  really  interesting,  as  a  psy- 
chological study,  to  note  how  far  this  may 
go,  even  with  some  of  the  best  of  our  cousins, 
especially  the  fishermen,  who  apparently 
consider  that  having  leased  a  salmon  stream, 
any  foreigner  daring,  for  a  moment,  to  put 
his  foot  into  the  contiguous  country  is  guilty 

[144] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

of  a  personal  affront  to  the  angler.  One  soon 
learns  to  avoid  even  the  attempt  of  a  bow 
to  one  of  these  Britons,  for  such  is  usually 
received  with  a  stony  stare.  But  when  one 
of  our  dear  cousins,  at  meal-time,  fixes  his 
monocle  and  looks  around  helplessly  for  the 
butter  or  the  salt  which  is  just  beyond  his 
reach,  and  his  neighbor  ventures,  perceiving 
his  needs,  to  pass  the  needed  article,  his 
"  Ah,  thank  you,"  with  the  rising  accent  on 
the  pronoun,  has  such  an  aggravating  sound 
that  you  are  tempted  to  throw  your  glass  of 
wine  in  his  face.  We  doubt  if  any  member 
of  this  class  of  Englishmen  has  ever  been 
guilty  of  returning  such  table  courtesies  to 
a  neighbor  who  has  failed  of  a  proper  intro- 
duction and  whose  respectability  has,  there- 
fore, not  been  vouched  for. 

This  lofty  ignoring  of  his  fellow-beings  on 
the  part  of  the  British  disciple  of  the  genial 
Walton  is  perhaps  quite  as  irritating  as  the 
more  active  animosity  of  the  subject  of  the 
great  William.  The  Germans,  however,  do 

10  [145] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


not  come  to  Norway  for  the  fishing,  but  rather 
to  enjoy  the  scenery,  which  they,  apparently, 
do  in  a  whole-hearted,  if  somewhat  noisy 
manner,  and  they  are  doubtless  aided  in  their 
enjoyment  by  the  universal  supply  of  the 
native  beer  or  ol,  of  which  they  consume 
extensive  quantities  even  in  cool  weather. 
The  requirements  during  the  summer  months 
must  indeed  be  such  as  fairly  to  stagger  the 
imagination. 

We  met  at  one  of  these  inns  a  Teutonic 
bicycler  who  claimed  to  have  travelled  seven 
thousand  miles  on  a  wheel  of  such  ancient 
and  heavy  construction  that  an  ordinary  man 
would  find  it  almost  impossible  to  propel. 
The  gentleman  in  question  stood  over  six 
feet  in  height  and  weighed  250  pounds.  He 
had  that  day  made  a  run  of  some  seventy- 
five  miles,  about  half  of  this  distance  being  up 
a  steep  grade.  At  supper  he  called  for  beer, 
and  a  bottle  was  duly  placed  before  him. 
This  did  not  at  all  meet  his  requirements, 
and  before  opening  it,  he  demanded  three 

[146] 


Merok  and  the  Geiranger  Road 

more  bottles.  His  next  neighbor  made  some 
remark  about  his  enjoyment  of  ol,  when  the 
German,  rising  to  his  full  height,  took  the 
bottle,  placed  it  against  his  breast,  and  in 
the  oddest  of  English  asked  us  to  look  at 
his  size  and  then  at  that  of  the  beer,  and  tell 
him  if  it  was  possible  that  any  sane  man  could 
suppose  that  one  bottle  was  enough  for  him! 
He  consumed  the  quartette  provided  with- 
out turning  a  hair. 

We  only  stayed  one  night  at  the  very  at- 
tractive house  at  Vesnaes,  but  we  had  a 
charming  view,  just  after  sunset,  across  the 
upper  end  of  the  Nord  Fjord,  on  which  this 
little  settlement  is  situated. 


CUT] 


VIII 
LOEN    AND  THE   NORD    FJORD 

ANOTHER  glorious  morning  greeted  us, 
wonderfully  clear,  bright,  and  cold. 
There  is,  assuredly,  a  quality  in  this  Nor- 
wegian September  air  that  is  peculiarly  ex- 
hilarating and  delightful,  and  the  visitor  who 
inhales  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  inspired  by  a 
desire  for  energetic  action. 

After  a  short  walk  along  the  shore  and 
through  the  picturesque  little  hamlet  we  con- 
cluded to  "charter"  a  row-boat  to  take  us 
some  seven  miles  up  the  fjord  to  Loen. 

Our  craft  was  brought  along  the  shore  di- 
rectly opposite  the  hotel,  and  our  luggage 
being  soon  stowed,  we  started  on  our  way, 
the  two  oarsmen  pulling  a  good  stroke,  as 
we  skirted  the  bold  and  rocky  bluffs  of  the 
fjord.  For  a  mile  or  two  in  the  direction  we 
were  bound,  a  road  has  been  literally  carved 

[148] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

out  of  the  solid  cliff,  and  this  highway  is 
gradually  being  extended  to  Loen,  eventually 
to  offer  a  superbly  picturesque  drive  of  eight 
or  ten  miles  between  the  two  points.  But, 
like  all  other  engineering  work  in  Norway, 
this  is  being  constructed  in  the  best  possible 
manner,  and  for  all  time,  and  the  difficulties 
presented  are  such  that  rapid  progress  is 
scarcely  possible. 

We  could  not  fail,  however,  to  congratulate 
ourselves,  on  this  occasion,  that  the  highway 
was  not  completed  and  that  we  thus  had  the 
opportunity  of  travelling  by  water  over  the 
brilliant  surface  of  this  fjord,  skirting  its  ir- 
regular and  picturesque  shores,  and  enjoying, 
from  this  lower  level,  the  striking  cloud  effects 
on  the  mountain-tops  which  surrounded  us. 

But  the  Doctor,  bubbling  over  with  energy, 
could  not  longer  be  restrained,  and  we  had 
gone  but  a  short  distance  when  he  insisted 
upon  the  stroke  oar  resigning  in  his  favor,  the 
gallant  tar,  indeed,  being  nothing  loath  to  take 
advantage  of  this  opportunity  for  rest  and  a 

[149] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


comfortable  pipe.  About  the  time  of  this 
change  the  breeze,  which  had,  so  far,  been 
extremely  quiet,  suddenly  "piped  up"  di- 
rectly ahead  and  it  was  soon  blowing  half  a 
gale.  This  situation  was  one  which,  natu- 
rally, brought  forth  piquant  and  horribly 
pointed  comments  from  the  Rambler,  com- 
fortably stretched  out  in  the  stern,  as  he 
watched,  with  no  slight  interest,  the  shedding 
of  garment  after  garment  from  the  back  of 
the  lusty  Doctor,  until  the  rower,  with  the 
perspiration  pouring  off  him,  was  reduced  al- 
most to  first  principles,  the  man  hired  for  the 
occasion,  in  the  meantime,  calmly  devoting 
himself  to  the  enjoyment  of  his  tobacco. 

The  Doctor  is  a  creature  of  great  fortitude, 
and  he  is,  moreover,  somewhat  "sot"  in  his 
way;  therefore  having  undertaken  to  row  he 
had  no  intention  of  giving  up,  wind  or 
no  wind,  until  we  reached  our  destination,  a 
matter  of  some  five  miles.  At  last  when  even 
his  energy  was  beginning  to  feel  the  effect  of 
the  head  wind  and  seas,  and  the  Rambler  was 

[150] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

calmly  enjoying  the  comfort  of  his  third  Nor- 
wegian cigar,  we  ran  under  the  lee  of  a  per- 
pendicular cliff,  and  in  a  short  time  we  had 
pulled  up  to  the  little  dock  at  Loen.  Disem- 
barking we  found  ourselves  in  an  odd  little 
settlement  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  many 
arms  of  the  fjord,  the  only  building  of  any 
pretensions  being  the  hotel.  Walking  up  to 
this  we  searched  a  long  time  to  discover  any 
sign  of  human  life  about  the  premises  or  in 
the  village.  Evidently  the  season  was  over 
and  the  inhabitants  were  not  expecting  any 
more  visitors.  Finally,  however,  by  follow- 
ing the  sound  of  a  soprano  voice  in  the  dis- 
tance we  brought  up  at  the  kitchen,  where  we 
found  a  damsel  quite  ready  to  welcome  us 
and  give  us  our  choice  of  almost  any  room  in 
the  house. 

This  inn  is  charmingly  situated  on  a  high 
elevation  above  the  rest  of  the  settlement,  and 
from  its  large  piazzas  one  looks  out  directly 
upon  the  fjord,  which,  at  this  point,  is  quite 
narrow.  Opposite  was  a  picturesque  range 

[151] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


of  mountains,  to  the  right  stretched  the  widen- 
ing fjord  upon  which  vessels  of  considerable 
size  steam  seventy-five  miles  to  the  sea;  to 
the  left,  and  quite  near  the  hotel,  a  beautiful 
and  rapid  stream  empties  into  the  fjord,  and, 
looking  up  a  little  farther,  one  can  see  this 
energetic  little  river  rushing  down  through  its 
rocky  gorge  in  its  haste  to  reach  salt  water. 
Above  the  river  winds  the  picturesque  road  to 
the  Loenwand,  and  this  is  backed,  farther  to  the 
left,  by  the  Lofjeld  and  the  Auftemsfjeld,  the 
latter  standing  six  thousand  feet  above  us. 
Verily  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  spot  with  a 
more  charming  or  a  more  varied  outlook,  and 
one  can  enjoyably  spend  hours  on  the  piazza. 
commanding  the  broad  stretch  spread  out  be- 
fore the  visitor,  watching  the  ever-changing 
scene  as  the  cloud-shadows  rapidly  follow 
one  another  over  mountain,  fjord,  and  river. 
Indeed  while  the  traveller  is  often  likely  to 
protest  that  there  is  too  great  an  abundance  of 
rain  to  be  altogether  satisfactory,  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  the  picturesque  delights  of  this 

[152] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

land  of  mountain,  cataract,  and  lake  are  won- 
derfully enhanced  by  the  clouds,  which  are 
ever  present,  even  in  the  brightest  of  days, 
adding  immensely  to  the  beauty  of  scenery 
which  without  them  would  lose  much  of  its 
fascination. 

We  met  at  Loen  some  English  fishermen, 
with  all  the  courteous  characteristics  of  the 
British  sportsman,  who  had  been  trying  for 
salmon  in  the  charming  looking  pools  of  the 
Loendal,  but,  apparently,  their  luck  had  not 
proved  of  the  best, — indeed  we  are  told  that 
the  salmon  fishing  this  season  throughout  the 
entire  country  has  been  far  from  satisfactory. 

It  was  not  too  late  after  dinner  to  make  a 
trip  to  the  lake  and  try  a  cast  for  trout,  and  the 
Rambler  started  out,  assisted  by  a  small  boy  as 
a  guide.  The  road  to  the  Loenvand  is  beautiful 
in  the  extreme.  It  follows  alongside  of  the 
river,  which  one  moment  rushes  in  a  mad  tor- 
rent through  a  narrow  gorge,  and  a  few  rods 
farther  spreads  out  in  some  of  the  most 
tempting  pools  imaginable.  The  vegetation 

[168] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


along  this  rugged  road,  covering  the  three 
miles  to  the  lake,  is  almost  luxuriant,  and 
the  groups  of  ash  and  white  birch  trees  par- 
ticularly striking  and  beautiful.  We  passed  a 
number  of  comfortable  looking  farm-houses 
and,  on  the  stream,  saw  many  picturesque 
little  grist-mills,  their  water-wheels  turning 
merrily  in  the  torrent,  which  in  itself  is 
powerful  enough  for  mighty  deeds,  did  but 
the  products  of  the  country  justify  the  har- 
nessing of  the  stream. 

The  view  of  the  lake,  as  we  approach  it,  is 
striking  in  the  extreme,  indeed,  it  has  the  repu- 
tation of  being  one  of  the  most  charming  bits 
of  scenery  in  all  Norway.  It  is  nine  miles 
long,  of  very  irregular  shape,  and  is  fed  by 
glacial  torrents  which  rush  down  from  the 
mountains  surrounding  it;  these  mountains 
are  from  five  thousand  to  seven  thousand  feet 
in  height,  with  outlines  of  remarkable  rugged- 
ness,  the  northern  sides  being  snow-clad 
nearly  to  the  sides  of  the  lake.  The  waters  of 
this  lake  are  of  a  beautiful  peacock  blue  shade, 

[154] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

and  the  peculiar  brilliancy  with  which  the  sur- 
face sparkles  in  the  afternoon  sunshine  is 
striking  in  the  extreme.  We  found  a  boat 
and  boatman  and,  starting  out  to  fish,  we>had 
a  fair  measure  of  success  for  the  first  hour. 
Then  suddenly  a  change  came  over  the  scene, 
a  metamorphosis  which  can  never,  we  think, 
be  witnessed  elsewhere  with  the  extraordinary 
rapidity  shown  by  nature  in  this  land  of  strange 
whims.  When  we  started  the  day  was  calm, 
the  surface  of  the  lake  smooth,  but  now,  in  an 
instant,  as  it  seemed,  heavy  clouds  rolled  up 
from  the  west,  shutting  out  the  mountain-tops 
which  surrounded  us,  and  with  surprising 
rapidity  a  gale  of  such  force  descended  upon 
the  lake  that  in  five  minutes  the  surface,  which 
before  had  been  like  a  mill-pond,  became  so 
filled  with  huge  waves  that  our  little  boat 
shipped  many  a  sea  and  was  in  danger  of  being 
swamped.  It  took  the  full  power  of  two 
pairs  of  oars  to  make  any  headway  against  the 
wind,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  reach 
shelter  under  the  protection  of  the  high  cliffs. 

[166] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


But  the  remarkable  change  in  the  aspect  of 
our  surroundings,  the  extraordinary  rapidity 
with  which  the  cheerful,  laughing  side  of 
nature  had  suddenly  been  changed  to  black 
passion,  was  interesting  in  the  extreme. 
However,  there  was  no  longer  a  possibility 
of  fly-casting  for  that  afternoon,  and  we 
worked  our  way,  as  carefully  as  possible, 
back  to  our  starting  place. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday  and,  the  morn- 
ing being  superb,  we  determined  to  devote  the 
time  to  a  trip  to  the  great  Kjendalsbrae  glacier. 
Providing  ourselves  with  a  good  lunch,  we 
were  first  driven  over  the  road  travelled  the 
day  before  to  the  foot  of  the  lake.  There  we 
again  embarked  in  a  row-boat  to  reach  the 
upper  end  of  the  lake,  a  distance  of  nine  miles. 
We  had  two  stout  oarsmen,  our  boat  was  com- 
fortable, and  the  scenery  surrounding  us  was 
said  to  be  some  of  the  finest  in  Norway,  a 
statement  not  difficult  to  believe,  as  we  looked 
up  from  our  little  craft  upon  mountains  tow- 
ering six  to  seven  thousand  feet  above  us. 

[156] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

It  was  Sunday  morning  and  we  had  not 
rowed  more  than  a  mile  before  we  saw,  in 
the  distance,  the  smoke  of  a  steamer,  which, 
coming  nearer,  we  found  to  be  one  of  the 
oddest  and  most  minute  steam  craft  we  had 
ever  come  across,  from  whose  funnel  rose  a 
thick  smoke,  showing  that  it  was  being 
driven  to  its  full  capacity.  At  first  we  could 
not  make  out  the  nature  of  its  load,  but  draw- 
ing nearer  we  perceived  that  it  was  not  only 
well-filled  with  passengers,  but  behind  it  was 
strung  out  a  long  line  of  row-boats,  many 
of  these  being  filled  with  women  and  chil- 
dren. It  seems  that  the  business  of  this  little 
tug  on  Sunday  is  to  gather  in  a  congregation 
from  the  surrounding  country  and  transport 
the  same  to  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  from 
which  point  the  church-goers  walk  a  couple 
of  miles  to  the  meeting-house  in  Loen.  It 
appeared  as  though  the  tug,  with  its  deck-load 
and  its  heavy  tow,  had  as  much  of  a  contract 
as  it  could  well  manage,  and  its  progress  was 
almost  at  a  snail's  pace,  but  every  few 

[157] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


minutes  another  family  would  push  off  from 
the  shore,  and  a  line  being  thrown  to  the 
approaching  boat,  the  weight  of  an  additional 
load  of  eight  or  ten  passengers  would  be  added 
to  the  labors  of  the  already  overtaxed  steamer. 
But  the  effect,  against  the  dark  background  of 
the  mountains,  of  this  collection  of  well  laden 
small  boats,  filled  with  men,  women,  and 
children  in  their  bright  holiday  attire,  all 
happy  and  enjoying  their  outing,  while  the 
little  tug  was  energetically  puffing  and  blowing 
in  the  vain  effort  to  make  better  time,  was 
strikingly  interesting. 

An  hour  and  a  half  through  the  brilliant 
waters  of  this  entrancing  lake,  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  glaciers  and  snow-clad  mountains, 
brought  us  to  its  upper  end.  Here  we  dis- 
embarked, and  taking  our  lunch,  started  on  a 
three-mile  walk  to  the  glacier.  So  clear  was 
the  air,  however,  and  so  deceptive  the  dis- 
tances in  this  country,  that  the  ice  fields 
ahead  did  not  appear  over  half  a  mile 
away.  There  is,  indeed,  something  both  in 

[158] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

the  atmosphere  and  in  the  size  of  the  moun- 
tains in  Norway  which  renders  it  very  difficult 
for  a  stranger  to  judge  of  distances,  and  it  is 
often  the  case  that  a  point,  apparently  just 
ahead,  or  a  near-by  mountain,  is  reached  only 
after  a  walk  whose  length  is  an  extraordinary 
surprise  to  the  novice. 

The  path  which  we  were  now  on,  leading  up 
the  valley,  was  charming  in  the  extreme.  The 
mountains  on  either  side  were  rapidly  closing 
in  and  the  valley  growing  narrower  rod  by 
rod,  while  ahead  and  above  us  we  could 
plainly  see  the  brilliant  white  stretch  of  the 
glacier.  September  frosts  had  already  begun 
to  tint  the  woods,  and  the  beautiful  yellows 
and  orange  of  the  birch,  'the  golden  browns  of 
the  ash  against  the  deep  green  of  the  pine  and 
fir,  and  the  rich  reds  of  the  mountainsides 
above  the  evergreens,  which  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  a  description  of  heather,  together 
presented  a  wealth  of  color  which  even  a 
New  England  October  would  find  it  hard  to 
rival  in  richness.  We  soon  came  out  on  the 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


old  bed  of  the  glacier,  which  extends  a  mile 
or  more,  and  is  filled  with  the  roughest  possible 
collection  of  boulders  of  all  sizes,  carried 
down  by  the  ice  from  the  mountain  above. 
Picking  our  way  through  these,  we  finally 
reached  the  foot  of  the  glacier  of  Kjendalsbrae, 
which  rises  up  at  an  angle  of  45°  from  where 
we  stand,  stretching  as  far  as  one  can  see  and 
connecting  above  with  the  great  Jostedalsbrae, 
the  largest  glacier  in  Europe,  covering  an  area 
of  350  square  miles. 

Two  large  streams  flow  from  underneath 
this  glacier,  the  ice  being  of  a  beautiful  green 
color,  while  the  surface  of  the  glacier  carries 
many  huge  boulders,  which  are  gradually 
being  deposited  in  the  stream  bed  as 
the  glacier  recedes.  The  noonday  sunlight 
through  this  ice,  as  one  stood  beneath  one  of 
the  overhanging  spurs  of  the  glacier,  produced 
most  strikingly  beautiful  effects,  while  an 
occasional  cloud  passing  over  the  top  of  the 
glacier  made  many  effective  contrasts  of  light 
and  shadow. 

[160] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

Seated  in  the  sunshine  under  the  lee  of  one 
of  the  huge  boulders,  we  opened  our  knapsacks 
and  enjoyed  the  excellent  lunch  prepared  for 
us.  And  no  one  should  travel  in  Norway 
without  providing  himself  with  one  of  these 
most  convenient  native  knapsacks.  They  are 
capable  of  holding  an  extraordinary  amount  if 
well  packed,  and  the  ease  with  which  the 
pedestrian  can  step  out  for  a  long  tramp  with 
his  load  thus  well  placed  where  it  will  be  felt 
the  least,  is  really  quite  remarkable. 

The  changes  in  temperature  in  Scandinavia 
are  often  very  rapid  and  it  is  an  immense  ad- 
vantage to  the  traveller  to  have,  near  at  hand, 
a  sweater,  a  light  rubber  coat  or  cape,  and  a 
pair  of  warm  gloves. 

After  an  hour  or  more  thus  spent  at  the  foot 
of  the  glacier — for  to  climb  it  at  this  point  was 
quite  out  of  the  question — we  retraced  our 
steps  among  the  rough  boulders  and  down 
the  charming  little  green  valley,  and  again 
embarked  for  our  return  row  over  the  lake, 
which,  with  but  a  slight  ripple,  sparkled 

it  [ 161 ] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


brilliantly  in  the  afternoon  sunshine,  a  marked 
contrast  to  its  tempestuous  and  forbidding 
condition  of  the  previous  day. 

We  had  in  the  morning  driven  up  from 
the  hotel  to  the  lake,  but  on  our  return  we 
concluded  to  walk  down  the  winding  road, 
which  for  a  short  distance  was  built  alongside 
the  roaring  torrent,  and  would  then  take  a 
turn  away  from  the  stream  and  pass  through  a 
park-like  bit  of  woodland  filled  with  birches 
of  the  brightest  of  colors,  intermixed  with 
sturdy  ash  and  dark  fir.  Then  we  would 
come  to  a  little  clearing  occupied  by  a  tiny 
farm-house  whose  size  made  us  wonder  where 
the  large  family  working  in  the  fields  could 
find  an  abiding-place.  On  one  farm  it  was 
evident  that  three  generations  were  hard  at 
work  cutting  and  curing  the  meagre  second 
crop  of  grass.  After  the  hay  is  made  it  has  to 
be  hauled  to  the  barn,  and  as  the  surface  of  the 
fields  is  usually  at  an  angle  which  will  not 
permit  of  the  use  of  a  wagon,  recourse  has  to 
be  made  to  sledges  on  which  a  load  consists 

[162] 


Loen  and  the  Nord  Fjord 

of  but  a  few  armfuls  of  hay.  These  economic 
operations  of  the  hard-working  Norwegian 
farmer  are  interesting  to  watch,  because  they 
show  such  painstaking  energy  in  making  the 
best  of  nature's  not  too  liberal  bounty. 

We  arrived  at  the  hotel  at  seven  o'clock, 
just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  moun- 
tains on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fjord,  and 
gloriously  illuminating  the  little  valley  through 
which  we  had  just  come,  while  the  rushing 
river,  as  it  emptied  into  the  fjord,  was  very 
charming  in  its  brilliancy  against  the  dark 
hills  beyond. 

Our  steamer  was  scheduled  to  arrive  at  nine 
o'clock,  and  we  sat  on  the  piazza  for  an  hour 
looking  down  the  fjord  for  her  lights  to  ap- 
pear around  the  point.  Just  as  we  made  her 
out  in  the  distance  heading  for  the  wharf,  the 
moon  showed  herself  over  the  top  of  the 
snow-capped  mountains  on  our  left  and 
superbly  illuminated  the  whole  fjord. 


[168] 


IX 
DOWN  THE  COAST 

F7OLLOWING  our  luggage  to  the  landing 
I  we  found  a  jolly  little  steamer  on  which 
we  were  to  spend  many  hours  through  the 
Nord  Fjord,  out  to  sea,  then  among  the 
islands  of  the  west  coast  to  Bergen. 

Extremely  comfortable  rooms  were  pro- 
vided for  us  and  we  were  soon  under 
way,  our  departure  being  watched  by  every 
"fellow  and  his  best  girl "  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood,  for  it  was  Sunday  evening,  and 
a  brilliant  moonlight  night.  Sitting  on  deck  as 
we  drew  away  from  the  shore,  the  scene  was 
very  beautiful  as  the  moon  rose  higher  and 
higher  over  the  absolutely  quiet  waters  of  the 
bay,  but  after  an  hour  we  found  that  our  long 
day's  trip  had  made  us  quite  ready  for  sleep, 
and  we  indulged  in  a  long  night's  rest. 

We  made  two  stops  in  the  fjord  and  then 

[164] 


Down  the  Coast 


went  out  to  Molden  which  is  situated  on  an 
island  at  the  entrance  of  the  Nord  Fjord,  and 
here  we  tied  up  at  the  dock  until  daylight,  as  it 
is  not  considered  desirable  to  go  outside  in  the 
darkness.  Leaving  Molden  about  3  A.  M., 
we  started  out  to  sea  for  a  short  distance  and 
then  ran  in  behind  another  island  where 
a  landing  is  made.  But,  during  the  entire 
night  and  early  morning,  such  is  the  universal 
quietness  with  which  these  Norwegians  do 
their  work,  that,  notwithstanding  the  landing 
and  loading  of  both  cargoes  and  passengers, 
we  were  never  disturbed  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree; the  crew  of  the  steamer  doing  their 
work  with  a  total  absence  of  unnecessary  noise 
or  yelling,  the  passengers  apparently  being 
better  bred  and  more  considerate  of  others 
than  one  usually  finds  upon  our  side  of  the 
water,  and  therefore  carefully  refraining,  in 
coming  into  the  cabin,  from  speaking  above  a 
whisper,  so  as  not  to  disturb  those  already 
asleep.  When  one  thinks  of  experiences 
in  American  "sleepers"  under  similar 

[166] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


circumstances,  one  is  filled  with  surprise  and 
admiration  at  the  superior  breeding  of  the 
travelling  Norwegian. 

When  we  went  on  deck  in  the  morning  we 
were  met  by  a  somewhat  disagreeable  driz- 
zling rain,  but,  protected  by  our  rubber  coats, 
we  became  quite  philosophical  and  we  realized 
that  even  the  most  favored  of  Americans  can 
scarcely  expect  to  have  brilliant  sunlight  every 
morning  in  this  land  of  much  rain.  We  were 
just  passing  out  to  sea  between  two  strangely 
formed  and  bold  headlands,  whose  sheer  sides 
rose  on  either  side  to  a  tremendous  height. 
A  stiff  head  breeze  was  blowing  across  the 
North  Sea  and  we  soon  began  to  plunge  into 
a  heavy  sea  which  was  dashing  up  with  great 
force  against  the  rocks  on  either  side.  After 
some  buffeting  we  cleared  this  forbidding 
and,  to  the  stranger,  extremely  dangerous 
looking  "lee  shore"  and  were  in  the  open 
sea,  our  staunch  little  steamer  dipping  into  the 
waves  in  a  manner  not  altogether  conducive 
to  comfort  for  those  of  delicate  sensibility. 

[166] 


Down  the  Coast 


Looking  back,  after  a  few  minutes,  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  discover  the  opening 
through  which  we  had  found  exit  from  the 
fjord — rocks  of  tremendous  height  and  of  ex- 
traordinary irregularity  in  outline  seemed  to 
have  closed  up  behind  us,  offering  no  possible 
passage  for  even  a  small  craft.  It  would  be 
hard  to  exceed  in  grandeur  this  part  of  the 
coast,  every  mile  presenting  striking  variety, 
while  the  effect  of  these  huge  cliffs  with  the 
surf  breaking  upon  them  was  impressive  in 
the  extreme.  We  now  turned  more  to  the 
south  and  we  were  soon  rolling  in  the  trough 
of  a  sea  of  no  mean  proportions,  while  the 
temperature  of  the  wind  was  such  that  the 
lee  side  of  the  smoke-stack  was  by  far 
the  most  attractive  spot  on  deck. 

A  few  miles  on  this  course  and  suddenly  we 
turned  and  headed  directly  for  a  perpendicular 
wall  of  rock  against  which  the  sea  was  dash- 
ing with  tremendous  force,  and  so  close  did 
we  run  to  this,  that  it  seemed  as  though  the 
next  minute  we  must  be  driven  head  on 

[167] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


against  the  cliff.  One  of  the  passengers, 
certainly,  was  deliberating  with  lively  interest 
upon  the  consequences  of  such  an  episode, 
when,  in  a  most  unexpected  and  extraordi- 
nary manner,  we  rounded  a  point  of  rock, 
apparently  but  a  few  yards  distant,  and  in  an 
incredibly  short  space  of  time  we  found 
ourselves  again  in  smooth  water  under  the 
protecting  lee  of  a  huge  promontory.  These 
evolutions  were  repeated  again  and  again  for 
several  hours  and  it  really  appeared  as  though 
our  pilot  was  endeavoring  to  test  how  near 
he  could  run  to  the  rocks  without  entire  an- 
nihilation. In  and  out  among  the  islands  we 
steamed,  now  in  smooth  water,  then  in  the 
breakers,  and  if  there  be  any  shore  in  the 
world  of  a  similar  character  where  such 
evolutions  are  possible  in  a  heavy  sea,  or  one 
more  fascinating  in  its  picturesque  wildness, 
certainly  such  has  never  come  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  present  writer. 

Indeed  one  of  the  marked  peculiarities  and 
charms  of  Norwegian  scenery  is  the  striking 

[168] 


Down  the  Coast 


contrasts  which  one  encounters.  Last  eve- 
ning, in  the  fjord,  all  nature  smiled,  for  although 
we  were  surrounded  by  bold  and  striking 
snow-clad  mountains,  at  their  feet  lay  the  ex- 
quisitely brilliant  and  placid  surface  of  the  sea, 
into  which,  through  the  many  green  valleys, 
flowed  innumerable  sparkling  streams,  the 
whole  being  charmingly  softened  by  the  sub- 
dued rays  of  a  September  sun.  To-day  it 
would  seem  as  though  we  were  in  a  new 
land.  Of  vegetation  there  is  little,  of  sun- 
shine, none  at  all,  but  in  its  place  hang  heavy 
and  forbidding  clouds  which  seem  pecu- 
liarly appropriate  to  the  stern  and  impressive 
rocks  which  surround  us  in  every  direction. 
And  against  these  sheer  precipices,  dash 
with  tremendous  force  and  noise,  the  breakers 
from  a  dark  and  angry  sea.  Nothing  exists 
to  relieve  the  awe-inspiring  grandeur  of  the 
surroundings,  except  the  memory  of  nature's 
smile  of  yesterday,  and  even  this  remembrance 
is  scarcely  sufficient  to  overcome  the  oppres- 
sion which  comes  over  the  traveller  as  he 

[169] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


gazes  at  this  grand  but  pessimistic  aspect  of 
Dame  Nature. 

After  some  hours  thus  dodging  in  and  out, 
from  sea  to  fjord  and  from  comparatively 
placid  water  to  the  heavy  surf  outside,  we  at 
last  found  ourselves  entirely  protected  from 
the  ocean  and  heading  a  southerly  course  for 
Bergen.  In  the  broad  waters  of  the  fjord  we 
saw  many  fishermen,  at  work  with  both  nets 
and  lines,  while  clusters  of  their  little  huts 
were  passed  nestled  at  the  base  of  some  stu- 
pendous cliff  which  protects  them  from  the 
onslaughts  of  the  western  gales  and  surf,  and 
before  many  of  these  little  settlements  were 
safely  anchored  sturdy  fishing  smacks  quite 
competent  to  brave  the  heavy  blows  outside. 
Like  all  these  Norwegian  fjords,  the  water, 
throughout  this  entire  route,  is  of  great  depth, 
and  the  steamer  is  quite  safe  in  running 
through  the  narrowest  of  channels,  and  often 
so  close  to  the  rocks  that  a  stone  could  readily 
be  thrown  from  the  deck  to  the  shore. 

As  we  approached  Bergen,  steaming  through 

[1TO] 


Down  the  Coast 


a  remarkably  crooked  channel,  between  islands 
on  the  right  and  bold  cliffs  on  the  left, 
we  noticed  that  many  spurs  of  rock  jutting 
out  towards  the  sea  had  been  painted  or  white- 
washed in  a  broad  belt  to  a  height  of  twenty 
or  thirty  feet.  We  at  first  supposed  that  this 
was  in  some  way  to  indicate  the  channel,  but, 
seeking  further  for  enlightenment,  we  were 
interested  and  somewhat  distressed  to  find 
that  these  landmarks  (if  they  may  be  so  de- 
signated) were  designed  for  an  entirely  differ- 
ent and  much  less  legitimate  purpose  than  as 
aids  to  navigation.  Indeed  they  were  much 
more  like  the  wrecker's  false  light  to  lure  ves- 
sels to  their  ruin.  It  appears  that  along  this 
particular  section  of  coast  there  are  very  few 
rivers  emptying  into  the  fjord,  but  there  are 
nevertheless  many  salmon  coming  in  from  the 
sea  searching  for  a  convenient  stream  which 
they  can  ascend  for  spawning  purposes.  So 
the  inventive,  but  perhaps  not  very  conscien- 
tious, Norwegian  fisherman  "plays  it  pretty 
low  down "  on  the  unsuspecting  fish  by 

[HI] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


painting  these  rocks  white,  which  the  salmon 
seeing  from  afar  mistake  for  seductive  streams 
up  which  they  may  push  their  way.  Reach- 
ing the  base  of  one  of  these  rocks,  which  jut 
out  into  very  deep  water,  the  fish  collect  and 
compare  notes  as  to  this  interference  with 
their  progress,  while  the  sordid  commercial 
fishermen  quickly  surround  the  unsophis- 
ticated fish  and  scoop  them  up  with  a 
"purse"  net  and  the  salmon  are  soon  dis- 
played in  the  markets  of  Bergen. 

The  writer  has  killed  his  salmon,  with  light 
tackle,  in  some  of  the  delightful  pools  of  east- 
ern Canada,  he  has  vainly  spent  hours  in  striv- 
ing to  persuade  the  Pacific  salmon  to  rise  to  his 
fly  in  the  estuaries  of  Puget  Sound ;  he  has  seen, 
from  the  same  waters,  tons  offish  takenbyspear 
or  by  mechanical  device  which,  with  astonish- 
ing rapidity,  transfers  the  live  fish  to  the  sealed 
can,  but  none  of  these  processes — not  even 
the  Columbia  salmon  wheel  —  appears  to  ap- 
proach, in  cold-blooded  villainy,  this  Norwe- 
gian method  of  tricking  thedenizensofthedeep. 

[172] 


X 

BERGEN  AND  THE  HARDANGER  FJORD 

ROUNDING  a  point  about  three  o'clock, 
we  saw  at  the  head  of  a  branch  fjord 
the  charmingly  situated  town  of  Bergen,  the 
only  place  of  any  size  which  we  had  met 
with  since  our  departure  from  Christiania, 
some  weeks  since,  and  it  therefore  seemed 
like  quite  a  metropolis.  The  city  is  finely  situ- 
ated at  the  base  of  hills  or  small  moun- 
tains which  shut  it  in  upon  three  sides,  while 
it  is  protected  on  the  west  by  a  group  of 
islands.  To  make  a  more  effective  harbor, 
however,  an  admirable  breakwater  has  been 
constructed,  and  behind  this  were  anchored  a 
large  number  of  vessels.  The  scene,  this  af- 
ternoon, was  a  busy  one,  for  there  were  many 
steamers  in  port  either  loading  or  discharging 
their  cargoes,  while  the  inner  basin  was  filled 
with  a  large  number  of  trim  and  sturdy 

[178] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


fishing  smacks,  unloading  their  catches.  The 
energetic  activity  and  bustle  —  if  one  may  use 
the  word  in  connection  with  anything  Nor- 
wegian—  impressed  us  greatly  after  our  jour- 
neyings  through  a  country  so  remarkably  free 
from  any  apparent  commercial  spirit. 

But  even  here  we  still  find  that  Scandi- 
navian dignity  in  the  reception  of  visitors 
which  is  so  universal  throughout  Norway,  for 
as  our  steamer  was  made  fast  to  the  wharf, 
we  perceived  three  dignified  hotel  porters  or 
runners  standing  in  a  row  on  the  dock  await- 
ing the  landing  of  passengers,  and  doubtless 
each  one  of  the  three  was  anxious  to  obtain 
business,  but,  properly  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  the  land,  none  of  them  ventured  even  to 
signal  us,  much  less  to  call  out  the  virtues  of 
his  particular  hotel,  and  they  awaited  our 
pleasure  in  the  selection  of  an  abiding  place. 
When,  however,  we  had  indicated  our  wishes, 
our  special  porter  became  our  counsellor  and 
friend,  and  he  was  ready  and  anxious  to  do 
everything  in  his  power  for  our  comfort. 

[174] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

The  city  of  Bergen  possesses  many  attrac- 
tive features,  and  some  of  its  old  buildings  are 
remarkably  quaint  and  picturesque.  But  what 
the  town  sadly  lacks  is  a  climate  —  or  rather 
one  might  say  that  it  possesses  one  exclusively 
its  own.  When  we  arrived  it  was  raining 
hard  and  during  our  two  days'  stay  it  con- 
tinued this  treatment  with  absolute  uniform- 
ity. As  this  condition  of  things  might  readily 
exist  in  even  the  best  regulated  community, 
we  were  not,  at  first,  greatly  troubled,  but 
we  soon  began  to  notice  the  total  indiffer- 
ence of  the  natives  to  even  the  most  ener- 
getic of  downpours,  and  a  little  investigation 
showed  us  that  clouds  and  rain  were  abso- 
lutely the  orthodox  thing  in  this  extraordinary 
spot,  where  the  average  annual  rainfall  is 
seventy-two  inches  (over  double  that  of 
Christiania)  and  where,  according  to  general 
information,  every  day  in  the  year  contributes 
its  full  quota  to  this  most  undesirable  condi- 
tion. Our  own  conviction  is  that  were  there 
more  than  365  days  in  the  year  the  clerk  of 

[175] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


the  weather  in  Bergen  would  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  increasing  its  present  record  of  six 
feet.  Literally  the  rain  falls  without  a  day's 
clear  intermission  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  un- 
derstand the  bad  character  which  is  accorded 
to  this  seaport  of  Norway,  giving  it  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  rainiest  spot  in  all  Europe. 

These  weather  conditions  are,  naturally,  not 
entirely  conducive  to  the  happiness  of  the 
visitor,  neither  do  they  enhance  the  many  at- 
tractions which,  under  more  favorable  cir- 
cumstances, the  town  certainly  possesses. 
Nevertheless,  protected  by  rubber  coats  and 
boots,  we  spent  the  larger  part  of  two  days 
in  watching  the  busy  operations  along  the 
wharves  and  tramping  through  the  narrow 
little  streets  near  the  water's  edge,  many  of 
these  being  lined  with  very  Quaint  old  houses. 
One  of  the  sights  of  Bergen,  even  in  the  rain, 
is  the  fish  market,  the  inspection  of  which  we 
found  of  much  interest. 

On  either  side  of  one  of  the  longest  wharves, 
at  which  were  tied  up  quite  a  fleet  of  fishing 

[176] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

smacks,  rows  of  large  tanks  are  placed,  with 
a  gangway  through  the  centre  for  the  pur- 
chasing public.  Behind  these  tanks  stand  the 
fishmongers,  each  armed  with  a  large  land- 
ing net,  while  each  tank  contains  but  a  single 
variety  of  fish,  in  active  life,  and  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  fate  which  is  so  soon  to  over- 
take them.  The  housewife,  with  a  large 
basket,  approaches  the  first  tank  and,  peering 
in,  examines  its  contents.  The  size  or  qual- 
ity of  the  fish  in  this  not  meeting  her  require- 
ments, she  passes  on  to  the  next  tank,  in 
which  she  may,  perhaps,  see  a  cod  which 
pleases  her  fancy,  and,  pointing  it  out  to  the 
salesman,  the  latter  makes  a  quiet  plunge  with 
his  net  and  presents  the  prize  for  the  custom- 
er's inspection.  The  buyer  takes  hold  of  the 
net  and  satisfies  herself  as  to  the  weight  of  its 
contents,  then,  taking  the  fish  by  the  gills,  she 
examines  it  with  the  most  minute  care,  all  the 
time  haggling  with  the  vendor  as  to  the  price. 
After  a  long  discussion  it  appears  impossible 
to  come  to  terms,  and  the  fish  is  returned  to 

»  [177] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


the  tank,  while  the  canny  housewife  proceeds 
to  tank  after  tank  until  she  has,  perhaps,  gone 
half-way  down  the  line  before  finding  a  fish 
meeting  all  her  requirements,  where,  after 
further  elaborate  negotiation,  a  bargain  is  fi- 
nally struck,  the  fish  delivered,  and  the  pur- 
chaser goes  on  her  way  with  a  self-satisfied 
feeling  that,  after  all,  wealth  is  the  result  of  a 
strict  attention  to  details.  On  market  days 
there  may  be,  at  any  one  time,  a  hundred 
such  careful  buyers,  absolutely  oblivious  to 
the  rain,  so  intent  are  they  in  their  scrupulous 
anxiety  to  obtain  the  maximum  amount  of 
food  for  the  minimum  number  of  ore,  and  it 
is  interesting  to  watch  the  zeal  with  which 
the  seller  enlarges  upon  the  exceptional  value 
of  his  goods  while  the  buyer  decries  their 
alleged  merits, — the  tanks,  in  the  meantime, 
being  frequently  replenished  by  additions  from 
the  supplies  remaining  in  the  holds  of  the 
fishing  smacks.  To  those  who  appreciate 
the  value  of  fresh  fish,  certainly  the  market  of 
Bergen  will  appeal,  not  only  because  the 

[ITS] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

quarry  presents,  in  its  wriggling  condition, 
"an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an  inward 
and  spiritual  grace,"  but  also  because  the  price 
demanded  for  the  fish  is  so  ridiculously  small 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  realize  that  the 
would-be  purchaser  can  haggle  over  the 
transaction. 

In  the  evening  the  inhabitants  of  Bergen 
show,  in  a  different  kind  of  interest,  their 
absolute  oblivion  to  any  discomforts  by  rea- 
son of  the  incessant  rain.  Opposite  the  hotel 
at  which  we  stopped  is  a  pretty  little  open 
square  in  which  has  been  placed  a  fairly  good 
bronze  statue  of  Ole  Bull,  who  was  a  native 
of  the  town.  Back  of  this  square  is  a  cafe 
with  an  orchestra  whose  methods,  we  think, 
would  scarcely  have  met  with  the  endorse- 
ment of  the  great  violinist.  We  sat  in  this 
cafe  over  our  cigars,  and  as  we  conscientiously 
strove  to  discover  some  virtue  in  the  perform- 
ance of  the  only  really  poor  orchestra  we  had 
heard  in  Scandinavia,  we  watched  the  crowd 
of  music-loving  Norwegians  who  promenaded 

[179] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


back  and  forth  in  the  open  square  with  the 
rain  pouring  down  in  torrents,  and  in  mud 
which  was  of  a  very  sloppy,  not  to  say 
tenacious,  quality.  This  crowd  of  young  men 
and  their  best  girls  seemed  to  be  greatly  en- 
joying themselves,  if  one  could  judge  by  their 
wanderings  up  and  down  as  long  as  the  band 
played,  while  the  water  poured  down  in  a 
solid  stream  from  the  face  and  the  long  locks 
of  Ole  Bull,  giving  the  fine  old  features  a  most 
melancholy  and  woebegone  appearance. 

It  would  appear  quite  evident  that,  rain  or 
shine  —  and  the  latter  condition,  we  believe, 
rarely  exists, —  the  correct  thing  in  Norway  is 
to  invite  your  best  girl  to  attend  these  prom- 
enade concerts  with  you,  and  there  were  a 
hundred  or  more  such  couples  apparently  en- 
joying the  evening  under  conditions  which 
would  scarcely  seem  attractive  elsewhere. 

Our  steamer  for  Odde  started  at  8  A.M.  and 
we  concluded  to  take  our  breakfast  on  board, 
for  the  Norwegians,  at  least  in  the  hotels,  are 
not  early  risers  and  a  morning  meal  before 

[ISO] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

eight  o'clock  is  not  often  a  success.  Our 
luggage  was  placed  on  a  hand  truck,  we 
enveloped  ourselves  in  rubber  coats  and 
started  for  the  wharf,  where  we  found  an 
attractive  steamer  upon  which  we  were  soon 
established  in  comfortable  little  staterooms. 

Precisely  at  eight  o'clock  the  lines  were 
cast  off,  and  we  started  for  the  Sognefjord, 
picking  our  way  among  the  islands  to  the 
south,  and  the  moist  town  of  Bergen  very 
soon  disappeared  around  a  point  of  land,  the 
interminable  rain  still  continuing  to  fall  on 
the  just  and  unjust  alike. 

We  had  been  travelling  but  an  hour  when 
a  wonderful  change  came  over  the  scene. 
Apparently  we  had  suddenly  passed  beyond 
the  rainfall  belt  of  Bergen,  and,  in  place  of 
the  depressing  downpour  of  the  last  few 
days,  we  were  treated  to  the  most  glorious 
of  sunshine,  which  brilliantly  lighted  up  the 
fjord  and  the  mountains  on  either  side.  The 
effect  was  inspiring  in  the  extreme  and  it 
furnished  us  with  another  striking  example 

[181] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


of  those  wonderful  scenic  contrasts  in  Nor- 
way which  make  the  country  so  indescrib- 
ably fascinating. 

The  route  from  Bergen  down  the  coast 
and  northeast  up  the  Hardanger  Fjord  is 
entirely  inside  the  headlands  and  in  smooth 
water,  and  the  trip  to  Odde,  our  destination, 
was  scheduled  to  require  twenty-four  hours, 
this  time  giving,  perhaps,  some  conception 
of  the  vast  extent  of  these  wonderful  arms  of 
the  sea. 

We  first  passed  through  the  broad  stretch 
of  the  Kvindherreds  Fjord  and  then,  turning 
northeast,  we  entered  the  narrower  waters 
of  the  Hardanger,  which  is  surrounded  by 
rugged  and  irregular  mountains,  many  of 
them  snow-capped,  glistening  brilliantly  in 
the  morning  sun.  In  the  Hardanger  we 
made  a  number  of  stops  at  picturesquely 
situated  little  landing  places. 

Our  human  passenger  list  was  very  small, 
but  we  soon  began  to  take  on  board  a  heavy 
contingent  of  four-footed  travellers,  in  the 

[182] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

shape  of  cows  who  were  being  returned  to 
their  homes  after  a  summer  spent  in  higher 
latitudes.  It  appears  that,  in  the  farms  along 
the  fjords,  the  crop  of  grass  is  so  valuable  for 
hay  that  the  owners  of  live  stock  cannot 
afford  to  use  their  limited  meadows  for 
pasture.  So  the  cows  are  sent,  in  the  early 
summer,  into  the  neighboring  mountains, 
where  their  welfare  is  watched  over  by  a 
scetor  or  cowherd.  In  September,  after  the 
second  crop  of  grass  is  cut,  these  cows  are 
sent  down  the  mountains  to  the  nearest  land- 
ing place,  put  on  board  the  steamer,  and  un- 
loaded at  their  local  habitation. 

It  is  an  interesting  sight  to  watch  the  load- 
ing of  this  stock.  We  took  on  board  at  the 
several  landings  about  a  hundred  head,  and 
the  quiet  and  effective  manner  in  which  these 
troublesome  creatures  were  handled,  was  most 
admirable.  A  broad  band  is  run  under  each 
candidate  and,  in  a  moment,  by  the  aid  of  a 
steam  winch,  the  animal  is  hoisted,  willy  nilly, 
into  the  air  and  dropped  into  the  hold,  where 

[188] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


she  and  her  sisters  are  eventually  packed  so 
closely  that  movement  is  out  of  the  question. 
So  calmly,  and  so  much  as  a  matter  of  course, 
do  these  cows  accept  this  treatment,  that  we 
frequently  saw  the  contented  beast  sedately 
chewing  her  cud,  not  at  all  disturbed  by  her 
experience  in  hanging  ten  or  twelve  feet  in 
the  air.  Each  cow  is  marked,  in  some  mys- 
terious manner,  so  that  her  particular  desti- 
nation is  indicated,  and,  at  the  proper  time, 
she  is  separated  from  her  fellow-passengers, 
hoisted  aloft  again,  and,  with  more  or  less 
grace,  dropped  upon  the  dock. 

At  each  one  of  the  landing  places  stand  a 
picturesque  group  of  women  and  girls  with 
coils  of  rope  thrown  over  their  arms,  and,  as 
a  cow  appears,  suspended  in  mid-air,  she  is, 
at  once,  recognized  by  her  special  maid,  who 
rushes  forward  to  claim  her  ere  she  touches 
the  dock,  and,  throwing  her  arms  around  the 
animal,  she  welcomes  her  arrival  on  her  na- 
tive heath  with  the  effusion  to  which  a  travel- 
ler is  entitled  who  is  returning  from  a  foreign 

[184] 


Bergen  and  the  Hardanger  Fjord 

journey.  These  scenes  are  full  of  life  and 
color,  while  everything  connected  with  the 
embarkation  and  the  landing  is  carried  on 
with  that  extraordinary  quietness  and  total 
lack  of  excitement  so  characteristic  of  the 
Norwegian. 

As  we  continued  up  the  fjord  we  often  ran 
very  close  to  the  many  bold  cliffs  on  the 
shore,  and  we  found  that  the  water  through- 
out this  entire  trip  is  of  extraordinary  depth, 
frequently  reaching  from  eighteen  hundred  to 
two  thousand  feet.  To  our  left,  several  times 
during  the  afternoon,  we  were  treated  to 
some  remarkably  beautiful  rainbows,  the  bril- 
liant arches  spanning  the  side  branches  of  the 
fjord  and  producing  striking  effects  against 
the  dark  growth  on  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains. The  whole  day's  trip  was  delightful  in 
the  extreme,  the  sun  gloriously  bright  and 
warm,  and  its  setting  brilliantly  illuminating 
mountain,  valley,  and  fjord  with  a  wonderful 
coloring  that  can  scarcely  be  matched  outside 
of  Norway. 

[186] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


During  the  night  we  continued  to  make 
frequent  stops,  and  to  take  on  and  discharge 
live  stock  and  other  freight,  but  so  different 
are  the  methods  employed  from  what  an 
American  is  ordinarily  accustomed  to  that 
no  undue  noise  or  racket  disturbed  the  pleas- 
ant slumbers  of  the  passengers. 

We  were  greeted  by  another  superb  morn- 
ing as  we  went  on  deck  the  next  day,  and 
we  found  our  steamer,  now  in  the  narrow  Sor- 
fjord,  heading  almost  due  south  for  Odde. 
We  were  still  honored  by  a  very  full  quota  of 
cows,  although  we  noticed  that  many  changes 
had  been  made  during  the  night,  and  these 
four-footed  passengers  were  being  dropped 
off  by  degrees  at  each  little  landing  place. 


[186] 


XI 
ODDE 

BREAKFAST,  after  an  hour's  breath  of 
this  clear  frosty  air,  was  welcome,  and, 
shortly  after,  we  made  out  in  the  distance  the 
little  village  of  Odde  at  the  extreme  head  of 
the  fjord  and  the  end  of  the  steamer's  route. 
Here  we  found  an  excellent,  if  somewhat 
more  pretentious  hotel  than  we  cared  for, 
but  its  situation  was  charming,  as  it  stood  di- 
rectly at  the  head  of  the  narrow  stretch  of 
fjord,  down  which  it  commanded  a  fine  view. 
On  either  side  of  this  fjord  the  mountains  rose 
grim  and  bold,  while  behind  the  house  was  a 
superb  valley  through  which  a  road,  after 
passing  the  little  settlement,  twists  and  turns 
as  it  gradually  ascends  to  a  lake  a  couple  of 
miles  inland. 

To  this  lake  we  made  our  way,  after  settling 
ourselves  at  the   hotel,   following  the   well- 

[187] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


made  highway  running  close  alongside  of  a 
roaring  cataract  of  a  river,  which  discharged 
the  waters  of  the  lake  into  the  fjord  but  a 
short  distance  to  the  east  of  the  inn.  This 
river,  which  is  called  the  Aabo-Elv,  has 
many  falls  and  rapids,  but  it  also  contains  a 
number  of  attractive  looking  salmon  pools, 
and  these  were  being  energetically  fished  by  a 
couple  of  Englishmen,  who  for  many  years 
had  leased  the  waters  at  a  price  which  must 
have  appeared  to  the  adjacent  farmers  as 
offering  a  far  more  remunerative  return  than 
could  possibly  be  obtained  from  the  hard 
work  of  tilling  the  somewhat  unproductive 
soil. 

Reaching  the  beautiful  Sandvenvand  we 
stood  for  some  time  on  the  little  bridge  span- 
ning the  river.  Here  the  water  rushes  out  of 
the  lake  with  great  force  and  the  stream 
makes  many  leaps  and  turns  before  it  reaches 
its  outlet  at  the  head  of  the  fjord.  Indeed  the 
view  from  this  point,  either  looking  down 
the  valley  towards  the  sea,  or  inland  over  the 

[183] 


Odde 

lake  with  the  glacier  Buarbrae  on  the  right,  is 
strikingly  beautiful. 

The  Rambler  had  brought  with  him  his  rod 
and  reel  and  he  started  along  the  shore  to  find 
a  boat  and  an  oarsman,  while  the  Doctor  con- 
cluded to  climb  the  mountain  on  the  west.  A 
boat  having  been  secured,  the  balance  of  the 
afternoon  was  spent  in  the  attempt  to  entice 
the  wary  trout  to  his  destruction,  in  which 
effort  a  choice  assortment  of  American  flies 
was  offered  for  his  consideration.  The  result,  if 
gauged  by  the  number  of  pounds  avoirdupois, 
was  certainly  not  record-breaking,  neverthe- 
less the  fisherman  rarely  remembers  spending 
two  more  enjoyable  hours. 

The  boatman,  who  possessed  a  smattering 
of  English,  enlarged,  as  was  his  duty,  upon 
the  wonderful  catches  that  were  often  made 
in  this  lake,  which  his  passenger,  having  in 
other  parts  of  the  world  listened  to  similar 
stories,  was  disposed  to  accept  as  containing  a 
greater  or  less  measure  of  truth.  But  the 
crisp  air,  the  exquisite  coloring  of  the  water, 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


the  brilliant  golden  effect  of  the  glacier — which 
appeared  extraordinarily  close  at  hand,  while 
really  more  than  five  miles  away, — and  the 
glorious  shades  of  birch  and  ash,  which,  dur- 
ing the  last  forty-eight  hours,  had  felt  the 
effects  of  the  frost  —  all  these  surroundings 
presented  a  fascination  that  no  true  disciple  of 
Walton  could  fail  to  find  impressive  no  matter 
how  light  the  creel  might  be. 

Moreover,  it  was  no  slight  sport  to  cast 
one's  fly  in  the  turbulent  white  waves  of  the 
cataract  just  as  its  icy  waters  plunged  into  the 
lake  from  the  glacier,  for  a  rise  here,  even  of  a 
fish  weighing  less  than  a  pound,  meant  a  trout 
of  extraordinary  fighting  capacity  and  activity, 
and  one  which,  like  the  ouaniniche,  will  jump 
out  of  water  three  or  four  times  before  being 
conquered. 

But  alas,  the  afternoons  were  becoming 
sadly  shortened,  each  day  of  the  last  two 
weeks  losing  ten  minutes  of  sunlight.  Far 
too  short,  indeed,  was  the  exquisite  after- 
noon light  on  Sandvenvand,  one  of  the  most 

[190] 


Odde 

beautiful  sheets  of  water  upon  which  it  has 
ever  been  the  good  fortune  of  the  Rambler  to 
cast  a  fly.  Indeed  so  difficult  was  it  to  tear 
oneself  away  from  such  surroundings  that  it 
was  long  after  dark  before  the  fisherman  ar- 
rived at  the  hotel. 

The  next  morning  we  engaged  a  stolkjcere 
to  take  us  to  the  Lotefos.  First  ascending 
the  road  to  the  Sandvenvand  lake,  we  crossed 
the  bridge  at  its  outlet,  and  skirted  the  lake 
on  its  eastern  side  for  several  miles  over  an 
absolutely  perfect  highway,  in  some  places 
running,  for  a  considerable  distance,  on  top  of 
a  viaduct  built  directly  up  from  the  lake,  in 
others  carved  out  of  the  perpendicular  cliff,  at 
great  expense,  and  with  no  little  engineering 
skill.  On  our  right  was  the  exquisite  surface 
of  the  lake,  beyond  which  rose  the  magnificent 
stretch  of  glacier,  sparkling  in  the  morning  sun. 
To  our  left  and,  in  many  places,  seemingly 
hanging  over  our  heads,  were  some  grand 
mountains,  rising  sheer  from  the  lake  for 
many  hundred  feet.  Innumerable  waterfalls, 

[191] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


some  of  great  volume  and  height,  crossed 
the  road  and  emptied  into  the  lake,  and  all 
these  torrents  were  spanned  by  capitally  built 
bridges,  upon  each  of  which  was  duly  inscribed 
a  tablet  giving  the  name  of  the  stream.  And 
this  care  and  accuracy  is  never  neglected  any- 
where throughout  the  country,  every  stream, 
even  of  the  most  trifling  size,  being  considered 
of  sufficient  importance  to  be  dignified  by  a 
full  title. 

As  we  approached  the  head  of  the  lake  we 
saw  one  of  the  long  wires  stretching  up  the 
mountain  from  the  valley  through  which  we 
were  passing,  and  near  the  top  end  of  this 
wire  our  driver  pointed  out  a  wee  bright  spot 
which  we  were  told  was  a  can  of  milk  which 
had  started  upon  its  downward  journey  and, 
in  some  way,  become  fast  in  transit.  This 
had  a  very  odd  effect,  hanging  in  mid-air,  and 
its  release  could  only  be  accomplished  by 
lowering  the  entire  line  of  wire. 

Now  we  came  to  the  inlet  of  the  lake,  a 
charmingly  picturesque  and  roaring  river  of 

[192] 


Odde 

great  irregularity,  which  rushed  between 
huge  boulders,  now  running  along  sedately 
for  a  few  rods,  and  then,  with  a  mad  tum- 
ble, precipitating  itself  into  a  narrow  gorge, 
through  which  it  roared  with  great  effect. 
Indeed  the  skirting  of  the  shores  of  this  river, 
now  on  the  east  and  then  across  a  stone 
bridge  to  the  other  side, — the  course  of  the 
road  dependent  upon  the  law  of  least  resist- 
ance for  its  builders, —  the  view  ahead  up  the 
rapidly  narrowing  valley,  the  extraordinary  ir- 
regularity in  the  course  of  the  rushing  waters, 
the  effective  manner  in  which  the  road  had 
been  constructed  so  as,  apparently,  to  present 
to  the  traveller  the  full  characteristics  of  the 
gorges  through  which  we  passed,  the  fasci- 
nating colors  of  the  birches  and  ash  —  all 
these  combined  to  make  a  drive  through  this 
section  one  of  striking  interest  and  beauty. 

Finally  reaching  the  Lotefos  we  could 
readily  appreciate  why  this  has  been  con- 
sidered one  of  the  finest  waterfalls  in  all  Nor- 
way. The  stream,  after  dividing  itself  into 

[198] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


two  distinct  sections  at  the  top  of  a  high 
cliff  to  the  left  of  the  road,  falls  from  a  great 
height  and  passes  under  a  bridge  which  spans 
the  torrent  just  before  it  reaches  the  main 
river.  In  crossing  this  bridge,  the  traveller 
who  is  solicitous  as  to  his  clothing  does  not 
tarry,  as  a  large  amount  of  spray  is  thrown 
entirely  over  the  road;  but  if  one  is  some- 
what oblivious  to  moisture  and  is  willing  to 
stand  on  this  bridge  for  a  few  minutes,  he  is 
repaid  by  a  superlatively  fine  view  of  this 
large  body  of  water  tumbling,  with  great 
force,  into  the  river  below. 

Almost  directly  opposite  the  Lotefos  is  the 
Espelandsfos,  a  waterfall  of  a  little  different 
character  and  of  less  volume,  but  quite  equal 
in  beauty  to  its  neighbor.  It  would  be 
hard  indeed  to  find  anywhere  another  pair  of 
contiguous  waterfalls  more  strikingly  pictur- 
esque. 

Here  on  the  hillside  is  placed  a  little  inn, 
but,  owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  season,  it 
was  closed,  and  refreshments,  after  our  long 

[194] 


Odde 

ride,  were  denied  us.  After  an  hour  spent 
in  climbing  up  the  Lotefos  cliff  as  far  as  we 
could,  to  watch  the  force  of  water  as  it  took 
its  first  leap,  we  started  on  our  return  drive, 
which,  in  the  afternoon  sunshine,  presented 
many  charming  features,  while,  as  usual,  the 
brilliancy  of  the  coloring  was  even  more 
striking  than  it  had  seemed  in  the  morning. 

We  had  purposely  arranged  to  stay  over 
Sunday  at  Odde  because  it  was  here  that  the 
inhabitants  are  said  to  attend  church  in  their 
bright  native  costumes.  It  was  therefore  a 
disappointment  to  find  that,  for  some  un- 
explained reason,  there  was  to  be  no  service 
on  that  day;  and  instead  of  the  opportunity, 
for  which  we  had  hoped,  of  studying  the 
fashions  of  the  season,  we  took  two  delightful 
walks,  the  first  over  the  road  to  the  west 
of  the  Sorfjord,  which  gave  us  a  fine  morning 
view  of  the  picturesque  little  settlement,  the 
valley,  and  the  lively  current  of  the  Aabo-Elv. 
Then,  after  dinner,  we  wended  our  way 
again  to  the  lake  and  ascended  over  a  trail 

[195] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


leading  to  the  west  and  towards  the  glacier. 
The  afternoon  was  an  exquisite  one,  and  the 
view  from  this  path  over  lake,  valley,  and 
glacier  was  beautiful  in  the  extreme. 

The  hotel  at  Odde  is,  as  already  noted, 
a  somewhat  pretentious  edifice,  and  it  is  de- 
signed to  accommodate  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  visitors.  Indeed  Odde  is  rnuch  more 
on  the  line  of  the  regular  tourist  than  most 
points  which  we  had,  so  far,  visited, —  and, 
in  the  season,  we  understand  that  the  number 
of  German  and  English  travellers  may  render 
the  place  not,  altogether,  attractive.  We 
were  fortunate  in  making  our  visit  so  late 
that  there  were  but  half  a  dozen  people  in 
the  house,  and  four  of  these  were  salmon 
fishermen. 

While  the  situation,  and  the  country  im- 
mediately surrounding  Odde,  are  both  re- 
markably beautiful,  the  present  writer  thinks 
that  what  perhaps  impressed  him  the  most 
was  the  display  of  roses  in  the  little  garden 
of  the  hotel.  Odde  is  situated  in  latitude  60°, 

[196] 


Odde 

on  a  line  with  southern  Greenland,  and  yet 
the  climate  is  so  mild  and  so  moist  that  cer- 
tain flowers  grow  and  flourish  here  in  the 
most  luxurious  manner.  Our  visit  was  in 
September,  very  late  indeed  to  see  the  rose 
at  its  best,  yet  the  garden  display  of  these 
was  striking  in  the  extreme.  Not  only  were 
the  plants  of  extremely  robust  and  vigorous 
growth,  but  the  flowers  were  extraordinarily 
large,  and  of  exquisite  form  and  color  —  of 
such  perfection  indeed  as  one  rarely  sees  in 
open-air  culture,  and  not  often  under  the  most 
favorable  conditions  of  hothouse  growth. 
The  charming  effect  of  this  little  garden,  with 
its  nearby  surroundings  of  snow  and  ice, 
was  extremely  delightful,  and  furnished  an- 
other marked  instance  of  the  many  striking 
contrasts  met  with  in  journeying  through 
Norway. 


XII 
ODDE  TO  EIDE 

OUR  steamer  was  scheduled  to  start  at 
7  A.M.,  which  necessitated  an  early 
cup  of  coffee,  with  the  expectation  of  a 
later  breakfast  on  board  the  boat.  Precisely 
at  the  appointed  time  the  steamer  got  under 
way  and  glided  out  into  the  fjord.  The  morn- 
ing was  gray  and  rainy,  but  this  did  not  pre- 
vent us  from  taking  a  position  on  deck  to 
study,  as  we  steamed  down  the  fjord,  the  ex- 
ceptional beauty  of  Odde,  its  valley,  and  its 
boisterous  river.  After  a  comfortable  break- 
fast we  returned  once  more  to  the  deck  to  find 
a  delightful  change  in  the  weather,  for  the  sun 
had  broken  through  the  clouds,  and  once 
more  was  illuminating  the  whole  scene  with 
all  the  brilliancy  of  a  glorious  September  day. 
We  made  frequent  stops  during  the  morn- 
ing at  delightful  little  landing  places,  our 

[198] 


1H 


Odde  to  Eide 


principal  passengers  being,  as  before,  four- 
footed  ones,  and  consisting  of  cows  being 
transferred  from  point  to  point  to  reach  their 
winter  homes.  At  one  time  we  had  sixty  of 
these  animals  on  our  small  craft,  every  availa- 
able  foot  of  hold  and  deck  being  required  to 
stow  them,  and  so  close  were  they  packed 
that  it  was  physically  impossible  for  a  human 
passenger,  or  member  of  the  crew,  to  move 
on  the  main  deck.  But  we,  who  were  on  the 
upper  deck,  could  enjoy  the  activity  of  the 
crew  in  their  quiet  handling  of  their  some- 
what troublesome  cargo,  and  we  found  it 
very  interesting  to  watch  the  picturesque 
groups  of  dairy-maids  gathered  at  each  land- 
ing in  waiting  for  their  four-footed  friends. 

At  Vik  and  Ulvik,  each  at  the  head  of  an 
arm  of  the  main  fjord,  we  landed  the  larger 
part  of  our  live  freight,  and  we  rather  envied 
them  in  being  domiciled  in  such  delightful 
spots,  for  these  little  hamlets  were  nestled  at 
the  bases  of  valleys  of  great  beauty  and  of  a 
verdure  surpassingly  brilliant  in  its  greenness. 

[199] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


The  delays  caused  by  our  somewhat  excep- 
tional cargo  prevented  us  from  arriving  at 
Hide,  our  destination,  until  nearly  6  P.M.,  two 
hours  beyond  our  schedule, —  but  we  had 
telephoned  ahead  for  a  stolkjcere  and,  as 
usual,  we  were  not  compelled  to  waste  a 
moment  in  unnecessary  delays.  Our  drive 
was  one  of  twenty  miles  to  Voss,  and  it 
would  evidently  be  long  after  dark  before  we 
could  reach  the  end  of  our  journey,  for  the 
shortening  of  the  daylight  had  been  very 
marked  and  somewhat  saddening  during  the 
past  two  weeks. 

But  the  first  hour  of  the  drive  was  at  that 
ideal  time  when  every  view  in  Norway  is  at 
its  best,  for  while  the  beauties  of  light  and 
shadow  are  always  striking,  in  these  Sep- 
tember evenings  the  frosts  had  clothed  the  fo- 
liage in  a  glory  of  coloring  marvellously  rich. 
Our  road  led,  for  some  miles,  along  the  shores 
of  a  lake  over  which  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun  produced  most  brilliant  effects,  and  ahead 
of  us,  and  upon  the  mountains  on  our  right, 

[200] 


Odde  to  Eide 


was  a  glorious  display  of  golden  birch  and 
purple  ash.  Indeed,  these  September  evening 
drives  in  Norway  are  indescribably  beautiful 
in  coloring  and  in  their  striking  atmospheric 
effects,  and  they  furnish  an  experience  long  to 
be  remembered.  One  peculiar  feature  of  the 
country  struck  us  in  the  condition  of  the 
ash  trees  along  the  roadside,  which  in  many 
cases  were  stripped  of  their  foliage  as  though 
by  some  pestiferous  insect.  Investigation, 
however,  proved  that  the  pest  was  a  human 
one,  for  we  believe  that  nature  has  kindly 
failed  to  inflict  Norway  with  any  insect 
life  injurious  to  vegetation,  the  favored  coun- 
try being  even  free  from  visitations  of  the 
potato  bug.  The  condition  of  these  ash  trees 
was  due  to  the  extreme  scarcity  of  fodder  for 
the  cattle,  which  causes  the  farmers  not  only 
to  take  extraordinary  care  to  preserve  every 
spear  of  grass,  as  already  described,  but  leads 
them  to  strip  the  ash  trees  of  all  the  foliage 
which  can  conveniently  be  reached.  This  is 
carefully  dried  and  is  fed  to  the  cows  when, 

[201] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


in  the  long    winter,    the    hay  supply    runs 
short. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  we  reached 
the  summit  of  the  divide,  a  steep  climb  of 
several  miles,  which,  as  usual,  we  walked, 
making  short  cuts  from  loop  to  loop  of  the 
road,  while  our  vehicle,  with  many  rests, 
slowly  followed.  Here  we  reached  a  point  of 
surpassing  beauty.  Standing  on  a  finely  con- 
structed stone  bridge  which  spanned,  by  well 
proportioned  arches,  a  roaring  river  beneath, 
we  looked  down  the  deep  valley  below  us. 
To  the  left  the  sun  was  lighting  up  the  birch- 
covered  mountain  with  extraordinary  golden 
radiance,  while  to  the  right  the  heavy  green 
of  the  fir  and  pine  was  deep  in  shadow. 
Through  the  centre  of  this  valley,  plunging 
over  high  cliffs,  twisting  and  turning,  tum- 
bled the  energetic  and  noisy  river,  in  some 
points  being  struck  by  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun  and  the  spray  turned  into  strikingly  beau- 
tiful rainbows,  while,  half-way  down  the  hill, 
we  saw  a  charming  little  inn  from  whose 

[202] 


Odde  to  Eide 


roof  flew  a  flag,  and  this  tiny  bit  of  red  in  the 
distance  stood  out  charmingly  against  the 
golden  yellow  of  the  mountains  beyond. 

When  our  stolkjcere  reached  us  the  twilight 
was  closing  in  upon  us  rapidly  and  our  last 
five  miles  were  travelledin  the  darkness,  down- 
hill, and  at  a  very  rapid  rate  of  speed,  which 
was  a  little  disquieting  occasionally,  when  we 
made  sharp  turns.  We  drove  thus  until  nine 
o'clock  through  a  heavy  growth  of  pine  and 
birch,  without  seeing  a  house  or  a  light  ex- 
cept that  of  the  brilliant  stars  over  our  heads, 
while  the  temperature  had  fallen  considerably 
below  the  freezing  point.  At  last  we  saw 
ahead,  and  below  us,  the  twinkling  of  lights 
and  in  ten  minutes  more  we  had  run  through 
the  little  settlement  and  had  arrived  at  the 
hotel  at  Voss,  quite  ready  for  the  supper 
provided  for  us. 

Voss  is,  in  one  way,  what  we  were  not 
specially  looking  for — a  railroad  town, — being 
situated  at  the  present  terminus  of  the  railroad 
which  has  started  from  Bergen  with  the,  more 

[208] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


or  less,  laudable  object  of  crossing  the  country. 
Up  to  this  point  it  has  succeeded  in  dodging 
the  mountains  and,  by  taking  an  extraordi- 
narily irregular  route  through  the  valleys,  it 
has  progressed  to  this  point,  about  seventy- 
five  miles  on  its  way  eastward.  But  from 
Voss  the  engineering  difficulties  greatly  in- 
crease, and,  from  a  traveller's  standpoint,  one 
cannot  but  hope  that  these  may  be  found  in- 
surmountable, at  least  for  many  years  to 
come. 

While  the  village  of  Voss  is  pleasantly  situ- 
ated in  an  extensive  and  quite  fertile  valley, 
bordering  upon  a  pretty  lake,  it  presents  few 
of  the  bold  and  picturesque  features  which 
we  have  found  at  other  points,  and,  in  com- 
parison, the  place  strikes  one  as  a  little  tame 
and  uninteresting.  To  be  sure  there  is  in  the 
settlement  an  odd  old  house,  known  as  the 
Finneloft,  which  is  used  as  a  kind  of  a 
museum,  and  which  dates  back  to  1300.  Its 
quaint  architecture  and  its  many  curiosities 
and  relics  are  interesting,  but  it  affects  the 

[204] 


Odde  to  Eide 


visitor  as  being  a  little  too  much  of  a  show- 
place  to  excite  exceptional  admiration. 

But  the  meadows  and  the  farms  in  this 
broad  valley  are  by  far  the  most  prosperous 
looking  of  any  we  have  seen,  which,  alas,  is 
but  faint  praise. 

It  was  at  Voss  that  the  present  writer  had 
the  intellectual  pleasure  of  studying  a  business 
sign  which,  in  a  single  word,  read  "  Blikens- 
lagerforrstining."  Its  dimensions  conveyed 
the  idea  of  somewhat  extensive  business  al- 
though it  was  placed  over  the  door  of  a  shop 
about  twelve  feet  square. 


[806] 


XII! 
VOSS  TO  STALHEIM 

WE  spent  less  than  a  day  at  Voss  and 
started,  at  3  P.M.,  for  a  drive  to 
Stalheim  on  our  way  to  Gudvangen  and  the 
Naerorjord.  We  were  vouchsafed  another 
superb  afternoon  for  our  drive  of  twenty-four 
miles,  the  greater  part  of  this  distance  being 
up-hill.  The  first  portion  of  our  route  lay 
alongside  of  a  bright  little  lake,  but  through 
a  comparatively  tame  country.  When  we 
reached  the  foot-hills  for  our  ascent  of  twelve 
hundred  feet  to  Stalheim  it  had  become  dark, 
and  we  thus  lost  much  of  the  beauty  of  the 
approach  to  one  of  the  most  picturesque  points 
in  Norway.  We  walked  the  last  few  miles 
in  the  darkness  and  in  a  biting  cold  air,  but 
under  a  clear  sky  with  a  most  brilliant  display 
of  stars,  arriving  at  the  hotel  prepared  to  wel- 
come, with  enthusiasm,  a  fire  and  our  supper. 

[206] 


Voss  to  Stalheim 


The  house  at  Stalheim  is  an  extraordinarily 
homely  structure.  Nothing,  indeed,  could  be 
more  forbidding  and  out  of  keeping  with  its 
magnificent  natural  environment,  than  this 
barnlike  and  hideous  building.  It  is  the  first 
instance  we  have  come  across  of  the  sad  re- 
sults of  "making  haste"  in  Norway  and  its 
general  effect  is  such  as  to  render  the  visitor 
better  than  ever  satisfied  that  "strenuous- 
ness"  is  not  a  Norwegian  characteristic.  It 
appears  that  on  this  particular  site  the  hotel 
has  been  twice  burnt,  the  last  time  in  1902, 
and  such  exceptional,  and  most  unfortunate 
enterprise  has  been  shown,  that  the  present 
disturbing  structure  has  been  put  up  in  about 
three  months'  time. 

But  if  the  hostelry  is  vile  from  every  aesthe- 
tic and  architectural  standpoint,  its  situation 
is  certainly  magnificent.  It  stands  on  top  of 
a  superb  and  almost  sheer  precipice  of  great 
height,  overlooking  one  of  the  grandest  valleys 
in  all  Norway,  and  down  to  this  valley  the 
road,  over  which  we  had  come,  winds  its 

[207] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


way  by  many  loops,  disappearing  finally  in 
the  distance,  a  mere  thread.  Through  the 
centre  of  this  valley  runs  a  river  of  goodly 
size,  fed  by  many  waterfalls  from  either  side, 
which  precipitate  themselves  down  the  sides 
of  exceedingly  bold  and  rugged  snow-capped 
mountains  of  great  height. 

The  situation  is  entitled  to  a  building  of  a 
thoroughly  picturesque  character,  and  one  in 
keeping  with  the  environment.  One  can 
only  hope  that  another  conflagration  may 
sweep  off  the  present  monstrosity  and  that 
the  powers  that  be,  appreciating  the  error  of 
their  ways,  may  realize  that  if  nature  abhors 
a  vacuum  she  still  more  disapproves  of  such 
an  incongruous  eyesore  as  this  barracks. 

The  building  in  question  is  planned  to  ac- 
commodate a  hundred,  or  more,  guests,  but 
at  our  visit  there  was  but  one  other  visitor, 
an  Englishman  who  had  walked  many  a  mile 
through  Norway,  and  who  impressed  upon  us 
that,  from  his  own  experience,  the  country 
was  far  more  attractive  in  midwinter  than  in 

[208] 


Voss  to  Stalheim 


summer.  This  particular  house  is  not,  we 
believe,  a  government  station,  which,  per- 
haps, may  account,  in  no  small  measure,  for 
its  deficiencies  in  architectural  beauty,  and  it 
was  just  on  the  point  of  closing  for  the 
season;  indeed  the  thought  of  a  sojourn  be- 
hind its  very  slightly  constructed  walls  in 
midwinter  in  this  climate  would  be  by  no 
means  an  attractive  outlook. 

Quite  a  distance  down  the  valley,  and  stand- 
ing at  a  considerably  higher  elevation  than 
the  hotel,  we  could  just  make  out  a  little 
hut,  and  to  this  spot  our  English  friend  in- 
vited us  to  join  him,  saying  that  the  view 
from  this  point  was  exceptionally  fine  and 
well  repaid  the  six-mile  walk. 

The  day  was  simply  ideal,  clear,  cold,  and 
bracing,  and  we  started  off  after  breakfast, 
drinking  in  the  invigorating  air  whose  effect 
was  almost  intoxicating.  First  crossing  a 
little  valley  to  the  west  we  struck  a  path  up 
the  mountain  which  led  us,  single  file,  along 
the  edge  of  many  steep  precipices.  The 

14  [209] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


previous  winter  the  old  man  whose  hut  we 
were  about  to  visit  met  with  an  accident  in 
going  over  this  trail  which  nearly  proved 
fatal.  The  snow  was  deep,  the  path  un- 
trodden, and  in  trying  to  make  his  way 
along  the  edge  of  one  of  the  cliffs  the  poor 
old  fellow  missed  his  footing,  and  fell  (ac- 
cording to  some  accounts)  a  distance  of  two 
hundred  feet,  luckily  landing  in  a  deep  drift 
of  snow  which  saved  his  descent  into  the 
valley  five  hundred  feet  below.  There  he 
lay  for  several  hours  until  a  rescuing  party 
pulled  him  out,  more  dead  than  alive,  and 
since  this  time  he  has  been  a  cripple  whose 
movements  are  of  great  difficulty.  It  is  said 
that  nothing  can  now  induce  him  to  ap- 
proach the  edge  of  the  mountain,  no  matter 
how  sure  his  footing  may  be. 

Along  this  path  we  walked  for  several 
miles,  and  as  we  ascended,  view  after  view 
of  extraordinary  and  most  varied  beauty  pre- 
sented itself.  Finally  reaching  the  gaard  — 
or  farm  —  near  the  mountain-top  we  found 

[210] 


Voss  to  Stalheim 


an  insignificant  little  hut  occupied  by  the  old 
man  and  his  wife,  surrounded  by  a  clearing 
of  a  few  acres  of  grass  and  oats.  A  wilder, 
a  more  lonely,  or  a  more  wonderfully  pic- 
turesque spot  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than 
this  little  apology  for  a  farm  perched  upon 
the  very  edge  of  the  precipice  and  overlook- 
ing a  wide  extent  of  valley,  a  thousand  feet 
below,  of  wondrous  beauty.  The  only  live 
stock  we  could  discover  were  a  couple  of 
cows  and  two  goats,  and  the  existence  of 
these  poor  old  people,  especially  through 
the  long  winter  months,  must  indeed  be  a 
hard  one,  especially  as  the  wife  was  appar- 
ently compelled  to  do  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
work  demanded  by  the  little  farm.  While  she 
was  also  evidently  of  a  good  old  age  neither 
of  them  seemed  lacking  in  a  fair  measure  of 
cheerfulness,  and  the  unusual  event  of  visi- 
tors was  doubtless  a  godsend  to  both,  even 
though  their  guests  were  able  to  exchange 
with  them  but  a  very  limited  stock  of  ideas. 
After  climbing  down  to  a  plateau  below  the 

[211] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


house  which  commanded  a  superb  view  of 
the  valley  from  which  we  had  just  come,  with 
the  hotel  in  the  distance,  from  which  the 
winding  road  made  its  sinuous  way  down  to 
the  lower  level,  we  persuaded  the  old  fellow 
to  induce  the  goats  to  climb  upon  the  top  of 
the  grass-covered  house  in  order  that  we 
might  obtain  a  "snapshot"  of  the  scene.  In 
this  he  was,  at  last,  successful  and  the  Ram- 
bler, in  parting,  handed  him  a  very  trifling 
piece  of  money  as  a  douceur,  and  to  show  our 
appreciation  of  his  attentions.  This  he  looked 
at,  with  evident  interest,  but  shook  his  head 
and  gave  us  the  unusual  and  somewhat  start- 
ling information  that  the  amount  was  too 
much  for  the  service  rendered.  Being  as- 
sured that  we  had  been  guilty  of  no  mistake, 
he  held  the  money  in  his  left  hand  and  after 
energetically  kissing  his  right  hand  he  gave 
us  this  to  shake  with  great  solemnity  and 
impressement. 

Indulging  in  a  refreshing   drink  from   the 
bright  little  brook  which  ran  past  the  house, 

[212] 


Voss  to  Stalheim 


we  started  on  our  downward  trail,  reaching 
the  hotel  in  time  for  dinner,  having  immensely 
enjoyed  our  morning's  experience  and  our  five 
hours'  walk. 


[218] 


XIV 
TO  GUDVANGEN 

WE  had  ten  miles  to  go  to  our  next  stop- 
ping place  at  Gudvangen,  and,  shortly 
after  dinner,  we  started  to  walk  down  the 
mountain,  letting  the  stolkjcere  follow  us 
when  ready.  Down  this  winding  road  was 
really  a  charming  stroll,  every  turn  in  the 
path  presenting  some  new  and  striking  feature 
of  the  landscape.  Half-way  to  the  valley  we 
crossed  a  very  finely  constructed  stone  bridge 
over  a  raging  torrent,  descending,  with  leaps 
and  bounds,  to  the  valley  below.  Reaching 
the  lower  level  our  stolkjcere  overtook  us, 
and  we  travelled,  for  several  miles,  over  a 
fairly  level  road,  the  mountains  on  either  side 
rapidly  closing  in  upon  us  as  we  proceeded. 
For  the  last  few  miles  the  scenery  is  of  won- 
derful grandeur  and,  indeed,  this  whole  valley 

[214] 


To  Gudvangen 

of  the  Naerodal  presents  some  of  the  most 
impressive  views  to  be  found  in  all  Norway. 

On  our  left  rises,  to  a  sheer  height  of  thirty- 
six  hundred  feet,  the  Jordalsnut,  while  to  the 
east  is  the  Kilefos,  a  wonderful  waterfall  of 
eighteen  hundred  feet  with  a  single  leap  of 
over  five  hundred  feet;  while  through  the 
valley  runs  the  rushing  water  of  the  Naero- 
dals-EIv,  twisting  and  turning,  first  to  the 
east,  then  to  the  west  side  of  the  valley. 
Near  Gudvangen  we  saw  the  evidences  of  a 
great  avalanche  which  has  changed  the  course 
of  both  the  road  and  the  river,  and  just  at 
twilight  we  reached  the  inn  where  we  were 
to  await  the  arrival  of  our  steamer. 

This  little  hamlet  of  Gudvangen  is  so  shut 
in  upon  all  sides  by  lofty  mountains  that  for 
the  three  months  of  winter  absolutely  no  sun 
is  seen.  The  delight  of  its  return  in  early 
March,  the  first  day  for  but  ten  minutes,  must 
almost  atone  for  its  long  absence.  The  little 
inn  is  charmingly  situated,  directly  at  the  head 
of  the  fjord,  which  here  is  closed  in  on  the 

[215] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


east  and  west  by  lofty  and  rugged  mountains, 
while  at  the  north  is  a  narrow  opening  through 
which  the  steamers  run  to  the  Sognefjord. 

Our  boat  was  due  to  arrive  at  n  P.M. 
and  leave  again  at  i  A.M.,  and,  after  we  had 
dismissed  our  skud  and  had  our  supper,  we 
went  out  for  a  walk  along  the  fjord  by  the 
brilliant  starlight.  It  was  a  frosty  night  and, 
on  our  return,  we  sat  before  a  cheerful  wood 
fire  until  10.30,  when  we  heard  in  the  distance 
the  vigorous  blowing  of  a  horn,  and  going 
outside  waited  for  the  mail  wagons  from 
Bergen.  Nearer  and  nearer  down  the  valley 
sounded  the  postman's  signal  and  in  a  few 
minutes  three  stolkjceres  rushed  past  us  at  a 
gallop,  the  driver  of  the  first  tooting,  with 
great  effect,  to  indicate  that  His  Majesty's  mail 
was  on  time  and  had  reached  the  second 
stage  of  its  journey  across  the  country.  This 
mail  is  a  daily  event  in  both  summer  and 
winter,  though  often  in  the  latter  season  it 
is  necessary  to  drive  out  on  the  ice  some 
miles  to  reach  the  steamer. 

[216] 


To  Gudvangen 

Starting  from  Bergen  in  the  afternoon  the 
mail  travels  by  rail  to  Voss,  the  terminus  of 
the  railroad.  It  is  then  quickly  loaded  on  as 
many  light  siolkjceres  as  may  be  necessary 
and,  at  full  speed,  it  is  pushed  forward  over 
the  divide  to  Gudvangen,  a  distance  of  thirty- 
six  miles.  Now,  shifted  to  the  steamer,  it 
continues  its  eastern  journey  to  Laerdal,  where 
it  is  again  consigned  to  the  native  two-wheel 
vehicle  and  carried  thirty-six  hours  to  the  ter- 
minus of  the  railroad  from  Christiania,  thus 
making  its  way  across  country  in  two  days 
and  a  half  over  rail,  fjord,  fjeld.  and  mountain, 
and  up  many  long  and  heavy  climbs. 

The  winter  trips  over  some  of  these  heights 
must  be  accomplished  with  extraordinary  dif- 
ficulty, but  we  are  told  that  it  is  very  rare 
that  there  is  any  great  delay  in  making  the 
proper  schedule. 

Now  we  hear  the  whistle  of  the  steamer, 
and  going  down  to  the  dock  with  our  lug- 
gage, we  see  the  prompt  transfer  of  the  mails; 
the  incoming  bags  are  quickly  loaded  upon 

[217] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


the  stolkjceres  and  these  start  off  at  full  speed 
upon  their  midnight  drive  to  Voss. 

We  found  the  steamer  small  but  comforta- 
ble and  possessing  the  same  neat  and  natty 
appearance  as  have  all  the  vessels  on  which 
we  have  travelled.  On  this  craft,  however, 
there  were  no  separate  rooms,  but  the  stew- 
ardess made  up  very  comfortable  beds  for  us 
on  the  lounges  of  the  little  cabin,  and  being 
the  only  passengers,  we  had  ample  accom- 
modation. After  our  long  walk  and  drive  we 
were  soon  sound  asleep. 

Our  start  was  made  promptly  at  one  o'- 
clock with  the  usual  absence  of  all  turmoil 
or  unnecessary  noise,  and  just  at  daylight  we 
tied  up  at  Laerdal,  the  captain  waking  us  up 
and  telling  us  that  we  had  arrived  at  our  des- 
tination. Believing  that  this  was  the  end  of 
the  steamer  route,  we  sleepily  turned  over 
and  told  him  that  we  would  take  another 
hour's  nap.  "  But,"  we  were  advised  in  that 
quiet  and  dignified  manner  at  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  take  exception,  "we  start  away 

[21S] 


To  Gudvangen 


from  here  in  about  five  minutes."  Comforta- 
ble as  we  were,  we  had  no  desire  to  continue 
our  sea-voyage,  and  hastily  pulling  ourselves 
together  we  were  soon  ashore  with  our  bag 
and  baggage  in  the  dimness  of  a  frosty  Sep- 
tember dawn,  with  the  steamer's  lights  disap- 
pearing in  the  distance,  and  not  a  house  or  a 
human  being  in  sight.  In  the  dim  light,  and 
in  our  sleepy  condition,  the  surroundings 
offered  an  excellent  opportunity  for  the  exer- 
cise of  a  Mark  Tapley  philosophy  which  we 
endeavored,  somewhat  imperfectly,  to  sum- 
mon up,  for  we  certainly  did  not,  at  all,  know 
"  where  we  were  at."  But  while  we  medi- 
tated as  to  our  next  move,  a  friendly  figure 
emerged  from  behind  the  freight-house,  which 
figure  indicated  by  signs  that  it  would  pro- 
ceed to  the  village  and  send  us  a  stolhj&re  to 
convey  us,  and  our  belongings,  to  the  hotel. 
We  enthusiastically  accepted  the  offer,  and 
after  half  an  hour's  delay  we  found  ourselves 
knocking  at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  which  was 
opened  by  a  woman  in  a  somewhat  deshabille 

[219] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


costume,  who  impressed  upon  us  that  silence 
was  in  order  as  there  were  other  guests  in 
the  house.  Reaching  our  rooms  at  5  A.M. 
we  once  more  strove  to  make  up  for  our 
somewhat  disturbed  slumbers. 


[220] 


XV 
LAUREDAL  AND  MARISTUEN 

AT  eight  o'clock  we  were  ready  for  break- 
fast, and  the  driver  whom  we  had  en- 
gaged appearing  on  time,  our  luggage  was 
soon  stowed,  and  by  nine  o'clock  we  were 
again  under  way,  just  as  the  sun  came  over 
the  top  of  the  mountain  on  the  east. 

Our  present  route  was  directed  to  Maris- 
tuen,  a  drive  of  forty  miles,  and  our  road  lay 
up  a  beautiful  and  fertile  valley  in  which  "all 
hands  "  were  busily  engaged  in  taking  ad- 
vantage of  every  hour  of  sunshine  and  secur- 
ing the  second  crop  of  hay.  Soon  the  valley 
became  narrower,  and  we  passed  through 
many  striking  gorges,  alongside  and  over 
streams  of  great  force  and  beauty,  and  be- 
tween mountains  whose  sides  presented  the 
most  brilliant  effects  of  color  from  the  frost 
of  the  preceding  night. 

[221] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


Continuing  up  the  irregular  valley  we 
passed  Blaaflaten  and  Husum,  and  reached 
Haeg  at  an  elevation  of  fifteen  hundred  feet. 
Here  we  stopped  to  examine  the  extraor- 
dinary architecture  of  the  old  church  of  Bor- 
gund,  built  in  the  twelfth  century,  which  we 
understand  is  the  best  preserved  building  of 
its  kind  in  Norway.  With  its  many  orna- 
mental peaks  and  gables,  its  curious  old  carv- 
ings, and  the  fact  that  its  congregation  must 
have  worshipped  in  almost  total  darkness, 
it  is  certainly  a  building  of  unique  character 
and  of  great  interest  to  the  casual  visitor  as 
well  as  to  the  antiquarian. 

From  this  point  our  road  began  to  ascend 
rapidly,  and  before  reaching  Maristuen  we 
had  a  steady  climb  of  eight  miles,  which 
we  accomplished  on  foot  through  a  heavily 
wooded  country,  whose  foliage  was  brilliantly 
illuminated  in  the  afternoon  sunlight  —  and 
we  reached  the  hotel  at  Maristuen  just  at 
sunset,  when  we  were  fairly  well  tired  out 
by  our  walk.  The  house  stands,  all  by  it- 

[222] 


Lauredal  and  Maristuen 

self,  on  a  plateau  at  an  elevation  of  twenty- 
six  hundred  feet,  surrounded  by  woods  and 
with  a  superb  view  of  the  valley  from  which 
we  had  just  ascended,  the  towering  moun- 
tains quite  shutting  in  this  plateau  on  three 
sides.  The  hotel  itself  is  an  extensive,  and 
not  attractive,  hostelry,  designed  to  accom- 
modate a  large  number  of  visitors,  and  we 
confess  that  "in  the  season"  we  should  pre- 
fer to  pass  on  to  the  next  stopping-place. 
Happily  for  us,  the  season  had  closed;  and, 
owing  to  the  bad  weather  during  the  summer 
months,  this  had  not  been,  at  all,  a  profita- 
ble year. 

Possessing  extraordinarily  beautiful  natural 
advantages,  this  house  seemed  to  us  decidedly 
the  least  satisfactory  of  any  we  had  visited  in 
our  travels.  Indeed  it  was  our  only  experi- 
ence of  any  lack  of  courtesy  and  hospitable 
attention. 

The  next  morning,  immediately  after  break- 
fast, we  once  more  took  up  our  tramp  up- 
ward and  onward.  A  mile  beyond  the  hotel 

[223] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


we  passed  out  of  the  line  of  vegetation  and 
reached  a  wild  and  desolate,  but,  in  its  bold 
outlines,  a  wonderfully  picturesque  country. 
After  twelve  miles  of  travel  we  reached  the 
highest  point  on  the  road  between  east  and 
west  Norway  at  an  elevation  of  thirty-three 
hundred  feet. 

On  a  stretch  of  this  wild  moor,  surrounded 
by  rugged  snow-capped  mountains,  our  pony 
was  jogging  along  in  an  entirely  dignified 
manner,  when,  suddenly  pricking  up  his  ears, 
he  shied  at  what  seemed  some  imaginary  evil 
and  for  half  a  mile  he  was  overcome  with 
great  nervousness  and  excitement,  quieting 
down  at  the  end  of  this  time  to  his  ordinary 
methodical  gait.  It  appears  that  this  ner- 
vousness was  doubtless  due  to  the  scent  of 
either  reindeer  or  bear,  probably  the  former, 
for  which  we  understand  many  of  these 
ponies  develop,  for  some  unknown  reason, 
great  fear.  We  were  in  the  region  of  the 
reindeer  but  had  not  ourselves  discovered  any 
signs  of  them. 

[224] 


Lauredal  and  Maristuen 

A  little  farther  on  the  coloring  on  either 
side  of  the  road  was  extraordinarily  brilliant 
and  beautiful.  Lining  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tains was  a  growth  of  what  seemed  very 
much  like  our  barberry,  which  from  the  re- 
cent frosty  nights  had  turned  to  an  extra- 
ordinarily bright  purple.  Below  this,  and 
running  down  to  the  valley  ahead  of  us,  was 
a  superb  growth  of  birch,  the  foliage  of 
which  had  reached  its  perfection  of  color- 
ing,—  a  golden  yellow  of  surprising  richness, 
set  off  here  and  there  by  clumps  of  rich  brown 
ash,  or  backed  by  the  deep  green  of  the  pine. 
The  effect  of  this  valley,  as  we  started  down 
it  from  the  desolate  fjeld  at  the  divide,  was 
wonderfully  striking. 

Ten  miles  steadily  downward  and  we 
reached  the  jolly  little  station  of  Skodstad, 
twenty-eight  miles  from  our  starting-point  of 
the  morning,  and  here  we  put  in  two  good 
hours  for  rest  and  dinner,  the  latter  being  an 
admirable  meal  of  soup,  salmon,  venison,  and 
delicious  pancakes.  At  three  o'clock  we 

[226] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 

again  started  eastward,  and  the  valley  opened 
out  with  increasing  beauty  at  every  mile.  On 
our  left  we  soon  reached  the  head  of  Vangsm- 
josen,  a  charming  and  dazzling  lake  twelve 
miles  long,  above  it  standing  the  superb 
Skodshorn,  fifty-four  hundred  feet  in  height. 
The  road  skirting  this  lake  presents  probably 
the  finest  engineering  skill  of  any  over  which 
we  have  travelled.  It  is  literally  carved  out 
of  the  solid  rock,  and  it  seems,  for  miles,  to 
hang  over  the  lake,  the  waters  of  which  are 
directly  below  us  a  couple  of  hundred  feet. 
On  our  right  rises  an  almost  perpendicular 
precipice,  and  in  order  to  protect  the  road 
from  being  overwhelmed  by  falling  stones,  a 
heavy  roof  has  been,  very  substantially,  con- 
structed over  a  long  stretch  of  the  highway. 
Down  this  road  we  travelled  at  a  speed  which 
is  apt  to  make  the  passenger  a  trifle  nervous, 
as  we  twisted  and  turned  around  extraordin- 
arily sharp  corners,  with  our  outer  wheel 
perilously  near  the  edge.  But  there  is  little 
or  no  danger,  apparently,  as  the  ponies  are 

[226] 


Lauredal  and  Maristuen 

absolutely  sure-footed  and  the  drivers  doubt- 
less thoroughly  understand  their  business. 

At  6.30,  at  which  hour,  unfortunately,  dark- 
ness comes,  we  reached  the  charming  little 
inn  at  Oilo,  delightfully  situated  in  a  fine 
meadow  through  which  rushes  the  Baegna,  a 
stream  of  great  force,  and  the  outlet  of  the 
lake  we  had  just  passed.  And  what  a 
hospitable  reception  we  met  with  at  this  jolly 
little  hostelry!  Our  hostess  was  all  smiles 
and  good  cheer,  a  roaring  wood  fire  was 
quickly  burning  in  the  sitting-room,  which 
was  most  gratefully  appreciated  after  our  drive 
of  nearly  forty  miles,  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  we  were  served  with  a 
supper  that,  to  our  great  surprise,  was  in  all 
its  appointments  incomparably  the  best  we  had 
met  with  in  all  our  journeyings.  And  then 
our  rooms  and  our  beds  were  most  enjoyable, 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  lack  of  comfort  in 
the  pretentious  hotel  at  Maristuen,  while  our 
reckoning  for  really  an  elaborate  supper,  bed, 
light,  fire,  and  capital  breakfast  footed  but  $1.12 

[227] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


apiece.  The  present  travellers  voted  that  their 
experience  had  rarely,  if  ever,  presented  so 
much  at  the  price,  and  we  took  great  pleasure 
in  proclaiming  our  sentiments  in  the  hotel 
register. 

It  was  quite  a  wound  to  our  feelings  to  tear 
ourselves  away  from  the  attractions  of  Oilo 
but  at  9  A.M.  we  again  started  our  effective 
little  pony  upon  our  day's  journey  of  thirty- 
five  miles  down  the  valley,  skirting  the  river 
for  a  few  miles  and  then  crossing  it  over  a 
fine  bridge  and  passing  to  the  east  of  another 
lake,  the  Slidrefjord. 

At  Loken  on  the  border  of  this  lake  we 
lunched  and  then  kept  on  down  the  beautiful 
valley,  being  again  favored  with  a  superb 
afternoon  of  bright  sunshine  and  strikingly 
beautiful  cloud  effects.  But  the  leaves  were 
fast  falling,  and  we  should  not  again  meet 
with  any  such  wealth  of  color  as  that  of 
yesterday. 

Before  dark  we  reached  Fagernses,  where 
we  found  a  house  delightfully  situated  on  the 

[228] 


Lauredal  and  Maristuen 

lake.  The  proprietor  evidently  has  an  eye  to 
the  picturesque,  for,  after  supper,  he  took  us 
out  to  a  charming  little  log  cabin  which  he 
had  built  for  the  benefit  of  smokers.  Here 
we  found  a  royal  wood  fire,  luxurious  chairs, 
and  the  decorations  exceptionally  attractive, 
consisting  of  a  fine  collection  of  old  Nor- 
wegian curiosities  which  gave  the  room  an 
exceedingly  pleasant  aspect.  And  among 
these  seductive  surroundings  we  sat  enjoying 
our  cigars  and  congratulating  ourselves  on  our 
good  fortune  in  falling  among  such  pleasant 
environment. 

We  were  now  directly  on  the  route  of  the 
through  mail  between  Bergen  and  Christiania 
and  this  mail  passed  through  at  5  A.M.  The 
present  writer  was  somewhat  taken  aback,  in 
the  early  morning,  to  have  his  door  pushed 
open  without  the  ceremony  of  a  knock  and  an 
attractive  maiden  enter  with  a  paper  in  her 
hand,  which  she  placed  on  his  bed  and  with- 
drew. It  was  the  London  Times  of  three 
days  back,  just  arrived,  and  as  we  had  been 

[229] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


without  any  sight  of  a  paper  for  many  days 
its  appearance  was  perhaps  a  desirable  though 
fleeting  addition  to  our  happiness. 

It  was  Sunday  morning  and  as  we  started 
out  the  air  was  wonderfully  clear  but  of  rather 
biting  temperature.  We  had  about  forty  miles 
to  travel  before  night,  the  last  stage  of  our 
stolkjcere  journey.  The  weather  was  in  keep- 
ing with  the  day  —  not  a  breath  of  wind,  and 
scarcely  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  an  exceptional 
condition  as  far  as  our  experience  went.  All 
work  in  the  fields  had  stopped  and  the  farmer 
folk  were  dressed  in  "their  best  bib  and 
tucker  "  to  gossip  and  enjoy  the  peacefulness 
of  the  day. 

The  first  part  of  our  drive  seemed  rather 
tame  after  what  we  had  passed  through,  but 
our  road  soon  began  to  rise  and  led  us  through 
some  superb  evergreen  woods.  Reaching 
the  summit  we  started  on  a  good  pace  down 
grade  for  seven  or  eight  miles,  making  an 
extraordinary  number  of  sharp  turns  on  the 
mountainside,  the  road  having  been,  in  many 

[280] 


Lauredal  and  Maristuen 

places,  built  up  upon  an  immense  and  very 
expensive  retaining  wall  from  the  valley  be- 
neath. Above  us,  in  order  to  keep  the  road 
from  being  overwhelmed  in  winter,  a  large 
number  of  snow  fences  had  been  built  and 
these  doubtless  caught  the  snow  and,  in  a 
measure,  protected  the  highway. 

We  dined  at  Fjeldheim  and  then  travelled 
our  last  twenty  miles  to  Sorum,  where  we 
arrived  at  six  o'clock.  At  this  point  we 
were  to  take  the  steamer  and  the  train  to 
Christiania,  our  starting-point.  Sorum  does 
not  call  for  any  special  mention,  being  a 
pleasant  but  somewhat  tame  little  hamlet, 
and,  turning  in  early,  we  were  ready  for  a  six 
o'clock  breakfast,  and  at  seven  were  on  board 
the  little  steamer  and  on  our  way  down  Lake 
Spirillen.  At  Heen,  at  the  lower  end  of  this 
lake,  we  reached  the  terminus  of  the  railroad 
which  some  day  it  is  expected  will  be  con- 
tinued across  the  country  to  Voss,  and  taking 
train  once  more  we  arrived  in  Christiania  at 
7  P.M.,  tired  but  with  a  feeling  of  real  regret 

[281] 


A  Norwegian  Ramble 


that  our  outing  was  over  as  far  as  the  fascina- 
ting Norwegian  fjelds  and  fjords  were  con- 
cerned. We  had  crossed  the  country  twice, 
once  northwest  to  Molde,  our  farthest  point 
north,  then  down  the  coast,  and  in  and  out  of 
the  wonderful  fjords,  and  finally  southeast 
again  through  the  beautiful  Valders  to  the 
capital  of  this  strangely  fascinating  country, 
and  in  all  our  journeying  had  never  experi- 
enced aught  from  the  natives  but  the  greatest 
of  courtesy,  kindness,  and  hospitality. 

THE  END 


Jl  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


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I.— FRENCH   LIFE  IN  TOWN   AND  COUNTRY 

By  HANNAH  LYNCH. 

"Miss  Lynch 's  pages  are  thoroughly  interesting  and  suggestive. 
Her  style,  too,  is  not  common.  It  is  marked  by  vivacity  without 
any  drawback  of  looseness,  and  resembles  a  stream  that  runs 
strongly  and  evenly  between  walls.  It  is  at  once  distinguished  and 
useful.  .  .  .  Her  five-page  description  Cnot  dramatization)  of  the 
grasping  Paris  landlady  is  a  capital  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  Such 
well-finished  portraits  are  frequent  in  Miss  Lynch's  book,  which  is 
small,  inexpensive,  and  of  a  real  excellence." —  The  London.  Academy. 
"  Miss  Lynch's  book  is  particularly  notable.  It  is  the  first  of  a 
series  describing  the  home  and  social  life  of  various  European 
peoples— a  series  long  needed  and  sure  to  receive  a  warm  welcome. 
Her  style  is  frank,  vivacious,  entertaining,  captivating,  just  the 
kind  for  a  book  which  is  not  at  all  statistical,  political,  or  contro- 
versial. A  special  excellence  of  her  book,  reminding  one  of  Mr. 
Whiteing's,  lies  in  her  continual  contrast  of  the  English  and  the 
French,  and  she  thus  sums  up  her  praises :  '  The  English  are. 
admirable :  the  French  are  lovable.'  "—The  Outlook. 

II GERMAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  W.  H.  DAWSON,  author  of  "Germany  and  the 
Germans,"  etc. 

"The  book  is  as  full  of  correct,  impartial,  well-digested,  and 
well-presented  information  as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  One  can  only 
recommend  it  heartily  and  without  reserve  to  all  who  wish  to  gain 
an  insight  into  German  life.  It  worthily  presents  a  great  nation, 
now  the  greatest  and  strongest  in  Europe."—  Commercial  Advertiser. 

III.— RUSSIAN   LIFE  IN  TOWN   AND  COUNTRY 

By  FRANCIS  H.  E.  PALMER,  sometime  Secretary  tc 
H.  H.  Prince  Droutskop-Loubetsky  (Equerry  to 
H.  M.  the  Emperor  of  Russia). 

"  We  would  recommend  this  above  all  other  works  of  hs  charac- 
ter to  those  seeking  a  clear  general  understanding  of  Russian  life, 
character,  and  conditions,  but  who  have  not  the  leisure  or  inclina- 
tion to  read  more  voluminous  tomes.  .  .  .  It  cannot  be  too  highly 
recommended,  for  it  conveys  practically  all  that  well-informed 
people  should  know  of  'Our  European  Neighbours.'  "—Mail  and 
Express. 


Our  European  Neighbours 


IV.— DUTCH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  P.  M.  HOUGH,  B.A. 

"  There  is  no  other  book  which  gives  one  so  clear  a  picture  of 
actual  life  in  the  Netherlands  at  the  present  date.  For  its  accurate 
presentation  of  the  Dutch  situation  in  art,  letters,  learning,  and 
politics  as  well  as  in  the  round  of  common  life  in  town  and  city, 
this  book  deserves  the  heartiest  praise." — Evening  Post. 

"Holland  is  always  interesting,  in  any  line  of  study.  In  this 
work  its  charm  is  carefully  preserved.  The  sturdy  toil  of  the  people, 
their  quaint  characteristics,  their  conservative  retention  of  old  dress 
and  customs,  their  quiet  abstention  from  taking  part  in  the  great 
affairs  of  the  world  are  clearly  reflected  in  this  faithful  mirror.  The 
illustrations  are  of  a  high  grade  of  photographic  reproductions." — 
Washington  Post. 

V.— SWISS  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  ALFRED  T.  STORY,  author  of  the  "  Building  of 
the  British  Empire,"  etc. 

"  We  do  not  know  a  single  compact  book  on  the  same  subject 
in  which  Swiss  character  in  all  its  variety  finds  so  sympathetic  and 
yet  thorough  treatment;  the  reason  of  this  being  that  the  author 
has  enjoyed  privileges  of  unusual  intimacy  with  all  classes,  which 
prevented  his  lumping  the  people  as  a  whole  without  distinction 
of  racial  and  cantonal  feeling."— Nation. 

"There  is  no  phase  of  the  lives  of  these  sturdy  republicans, 
whether  social  or  political,  which  Mr.  Story  does  not  touch  upon ; 
and  an  abundance  of  illustrations  drawn  from  unhackneyed  sub- 
jects adds  to  the  value  of  the  book."— Chicago  Dial. 

VI.— SPANISH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  L.  KIGGIN. 

"Illuminating  in  all  of  its  chapters.  She  writes  in  thorough 
sympathy,  born  of  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  Spanish 
people  of  to-day."—  St.  Paul  Press. 

"The  author  knows  her  subject  thoroughly  and  has  written  a 
most  admirable  volume.  She  writes  with  genuine  love  for  the 
Spaniards,  and  with  a  sympathetic  knowledge  of  their  character 
and  their  method  of  life." — Canada  Methodist  Review. 


Our  European  Neighbours 


VII.— ITALIAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  LUIGI  VILLARI. 

"  A  most  interesting  and  instructive  volume,  which  presents  an 
intimate  view  of  the  social  habits  and  manner  of  thought  of  the 
people  of  which  it  treats." — Buffalo  Express. 

"  A  book  full  of  information,  comprehensive  and  accurate.  Its 
numerous  attractive  illustrations  add  to  its  interest  and  value.  We 
are  glad  to  welcome  such  an  addition  to  an  excellent  series." — 
Syracuse  Herald. 


VIII.— DANISH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  JESSIE  H.  BROCHNER. 

"  Miss  Brochner  has  written  an  interesting  book  on  a  fascinat- 
ing subject,  a  book  which  should  arouse  an  interest  in  Denmark  in 
those  who  have  not  been  there,  and  which  can  make  those  who 
know  and  are  attracted  by  the  country  very  homesick  to  return." — 
Commercial  Advertiser. 

"She  has  sketched  with  loving  art  the  simple,  yet  pure  and 
elevated  lives  of  her  countrymen,  and  given  the  reader  an  excellent 
idea  of  the  Danes  from  every  point  of  view."— Chicago  Tribune. 


IX.— AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND 
COUNTRY 

By  FRANCIS  H.  E.  PALMER,  author  of  "  Russian 
Life  in  Town  and  Country,"  etc. 

•'No  volume  in  this  interesting  series  seems  to  us  so  notable  or 
valuable  as  this  on  Austro-Hungarian  life.  Mr.  Palmer's  long  resi- 
dence in  Europe  and  his  intimate  association  with  men  of  mark, 
especially  in  their  home  life,  has  given  to  him  a  richness  of  experi- 
ence evident  on  every  page  of  the  book."—  The  Outlook. 

"This  book  cannot  be  too  warmly  recommended  to  those  who 
have  not  the  leisure  or  the  spirit  to  read  voluminous  tomes  of  this 
subject,  yet  we  wish  a  clear  general  understanding  of  Austro-Hun- 
garian life."— Hartford  Times. 


Our  European  Neighbours 


X.— TURKISH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  L.  M.  J.  GARNETT. 

"The  general  tone  of  the  book  is  that  of  a  careful  study,  the 
style  is  flowing,  and  the  matter  is  presented  in  a  bright,  taking 
way."— SI.  Paul  Press. 

"To  the  average  mind  the  Turk  is  a  little  better  than  a  blood- 
thirsty individual  with  a  plurality  of  wives  and  a  paucity  of  vir- 
tues. To  lead  this  book  is  to  be  pleasantly  disillusioned."— Public 
Opinion. 


XI.— BELGIAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  DEMETRIUS  C.  BOULGER 

"  Mr.  Boulger  has  given  a  plain,  straight-forward  account  of 
the  several  phases  of  Belgian  Life,  the  government,  the  court,  the 
manufacturing  centers  and  enterprises,  the  literature  and  science, 
the  army,  education  and  religion,  set  forth  informingly."—  The 
Detroit  free  Press. 

"  The  book  is  one  of  real  value  conscientiously  written,  and 
well  illustrated  by  good  photographs."—  The  Outlook. 


XII.— SWEDISH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  G.  VON  HEIDENSTAM. 

"As  we  read  this  interesting  book  we  seem  to  be  wandering 
through  this  land,  visiting  its  homes  and  schools  and  churches, 
studying  its  government  and  farms  and  industries,  and  observing 
the  dress  and  customs  and  amusements  of  its  healthy  and  happy 
people.  The  book  is  delightfully  written  and  beautifully  illus- 
trated."— Presbyterian  Bannet. 

"In  this  intimate  account  of  the  Swedish  people  is  given  a 
more  instructive  view  of  their  political  and  social  relations  than  it 
has  been  the  good  fortune  of  American  readers  heretofore  to  ob- 
tain."— Washington  Even.  Star. 


